Fallen From Grace
by IceWing
Summary: A few years from now, Faith is doing her best to help people, but a new player on the supernatural scene who knows more about her than they should causes her some worry.
1. Prologue - Prophecy

Untitled Document

Disclaimer: Joss owns the whole universe I am playing in. I'm just renting it and repainting a couple of walls.

Fallen from Grace  
Prologue  
By IceWing ([icewing@one.net][1])  


  
Transcribed from the Words of Inanna,   
Believed to be Written in the Jemdat Nasr Period of the Sumerian Empire   
Rediscovered in 1809 near the ruins of Urak. 

_In days distant off, past the time of the sundering of the line,   
A darkness shall walk amongst the shadows._

_Darkness that was light, light that was a pillar in the fight,   
Against the daemons of the night._

_Waters rise, fires burn, warriors fall, some for a time, some for all time._

_The innocent blood of the earth's daughter, the twice spilt blood of a slayer,  
the blood of a demon not a demon and that of a demon no more,   
the blood of a father to all,  
and the blood of the heart shall mingle in the dust of the fallen Fallen._

_Two vanish before the kiss of dawn, their blood the only trace remaining,   
One survives, only to be lost to those left.   
One shall loose all that has happened,   
One shall leave this world behind. _

_Of six, one stands alone, heart heavier than the weight any can bear.   
In time, hope dies, as the light slips away. _

_The light fades, the night overcomes._

_The soulless have more heart left than that which shall hunt them._

_It knows not fear, it cares not its fate. A sole purpose it has now.   
To cause the creatures of the night fear. _

_The drinkers of life shall fear the night, for when its attention turns to them,   
only pain shall follow. Pain without mercy, death for the dead.   
They shall be hurt as they have hurt, the hunters the hunted. _

_And a soul will continue fading away, as the heart which houses it cares not._

_Pain breeds pain. Death breeds death.   
And death shall hunt the dead, night shall hunt those who hide in the darkness._

_They know. They fear. They run. They die._

_Yet even in the dark, there can be light. _

_Three score and thrice times shall Selene dance through her endless track,  
Then a single ray, lightening from darkness its own, shall shine upon the night,  
as the night threatens this ray of once dim light. _

_The fleeting chance to resurrect a soul reduced from a once raging inferno to fading embers.  
The chance to resurrect a soul which cares little for the world around it,  
save to inflict pain on the darkness in its merciless quest for vengeance._

_The darkness can tighten its insidious talons around any of us.  
Those who fight the darkness must have something to hold them back from the chasm.  
For in the fight against evil, one can strain towards it.   
With goodness gone, hope lost and hearts shattered,   
there is naught to hold any back from that which they fight._

_But even as the darkness consumes, even as the soul withers,  
Even as there is nothing left but pain and death,  
The most bitter and shattered soul may emerge once more, out of death, out of night,  
If the light shines upon those flickering embers of goodness and hope,  
If the light can find it in itself to brighten those embers,   
And not be destroyed in the process, then..._

_Then there may still yet be hope._

_For the sake of humanity,   
May the Light shine,  
For if that fallen night turns its attention away from that which it once hunted,  
Towards those who it was once a part of,   
Then the defenders, those few warriors left against the dark tide in this Eternal War,   
Shall be defeated as no demon of days past could have ever done,_

_And the Darkness shall grow..._

_May the Light Shine!_

End Prologue

   [1]: mailto:icewing@one.net



	2. Chapter One

Untitled Document

Disclaimer: Joss owns all the characters. I burglarized his wall safe and made photocopies for my own use. I own nothing but a beat up car, a personal library of 600 books and a finicky Muse.

Fallen from Grace  
Chapter One  
By IceWing ([icewing@one.net][1])  


Chapter One

Faith tensed as the guard approached her in the library. Things weren't as bad these days, but she still remembered the early  
beatings the guards had inflicted on her. 

"Stevenson. You've got a visitor."

Faith nodded and slid a bookmark into her reading. Kinda ironic that after all the time she had spent avoiding learning on the outside, that the library in prison would become one of her favorite places to get away from it all. She rose from her chair like a panther from its lair. That was another reason things had calmed down. After the first rounds of beatings, she had made her way to the prison gym and after a couple of the inmates saw what she was capable of, only the most hardcases bothered her anymore. A faint smile crossed her face. Those were the ones that the guards tended to turn a blind eye towards. Every con that took a swing at Faith was one less who would be likely to take a swing at a guard any time soon. She dropped the   
book on the desk in front of Katie, the trustee who was serving as librarian and asked her to hold it for her. 

"Your boyfriend back for another visit?" asked the trustee as she slid the book behind the desk for safekeeping.

Faith chuckled. "How many times do I have to tell you."

"Girl, I've seen that man a couple of times when he leaves and let me tell you, if he don't do something for you, then you're deader than these authors you keep reading. They don't make em like that anymore!"

"I'm telling you, he's like a mentor, big brother type. He's been where I am and he's trying to help me. And as for not making like that, you're right. Not many like him for the last couple hundred years." Both of them laughed as Faith walked out behind the guard, towards the visiting area.

As soon as she saw him, Faith knew something was wrong. She tried to keep from running as she made her way towards the window at which he sat. Deep breath as she picked up the phone.

"Faith." His voice trailed off as if he couldn't even bear to think about what he was about to tell her.

"Angel, you're scaring me a little here. What's wrong?"

"They're" He trailed off again.

Faith couldn't remember ever seeing him showing this much emotion in as long as she had known him. "Who? The Council?" 

"SunnyDale." Blood could be seen beginning to well up in his eyes.

A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. "Something happened." It wasn't a question, but a realization of fact. A realization which by Angel confirmed with a silent nod.

The next thing she knew, she was back in the prison library, sitting on the floor, with Katie, kneeling in front of her, trying to get her to respond.

"Faith, what's wrong? You look like you just got some really bad news."

With sad eyes, Faith looked up. "I did some things before I got in here that drove a big wedge between some of the few people who would have called me their friend. And now I think I lost the chance to make things right with them."

"Are they mad at you about something?"

Faith's voice cracked a little bit as she responded. "They're dead."

End Chapter 1

  


   [1]: mailto:icewing@one.net



	3. Chapter Two

Untitled Document

Disclaimer: Ave! Ave Joss Imperator! (Well, it kinda works... Lets see if anybody out there recognizes it)

Fallen from Grace  
Chapter Two  
By IceWing ([icewing@one.net][1])  


Katie knelt down beside Faith, taken the obviously shaken young woman's hands in hers. "Faith, if you want to talk about it, I'm willing to listen"

Torn as to what to do next, Faith replayed the conversation in her mind 

Faith looked at Angel, waiting, then spoke. "Who was it? Somebody got hurt?"

"They They were going after a demon lair. From what I found in Giles' notes, several of Glasyalabolas's Acolytes were trying to summon him and allow him to"

"Run amok?"

Angel nodded again, wiping his eyes with a handkerchief. Faith could see red trails soaking through the white cotton cloth. Tears of blood. "Cordelia had a vision. It showed all of them fighting a half dozen demons." He looked down. "By the time we got there, it was too late. Normally Cordy gets the visions in advance, but this time" He let out a sound that almost sounded like a sob. "This time she had it as it was happening. When we got there, the fight was over The demons and the vampires working with them were were dead But the cost" He was silent for close to a minute.

"Angel?"

"When we got there, we" He took a moment and composed himself. "We found blood. A lot of blood. Tara and Willow were both hurt really badly and unconscious. Anya was dead, her neck broken."

"The others?" 

"We don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Faith's voice had raised slightly. "How can you not know?"

Angel reached into his duster and pulled something out, setting it on the counter in front of him. Faith looked and realized that what she was seeing was Giles' glasses.

Giles' shattered, mangled glasses.

Faith felt like somebody had hit her in the stomach with a sledgehammer. Again. Giles had been one of the few authority  
figures for whom she had any respect. "Is he?"

"Like I said, we don't know. There were three puddles of human blood with no bodies in them. One of them had a blood trail leading out of it, but we couldn't find whoever it was. The other two There was nothing."

"So they could be alive? Buffy, Giles and Xander?" 

"I don't think so Faith. There was so much blood. We've been watching the hospitals and none of them have been admitted." He looked down again. "No sign from the morgue either"

"How long?"

"Four days ago. Anya was buried yesterday."

Faith felt numb. Granted she hadn't been on the best of terms with the Slayerettes since her foray into the darkside, but she had spoken with Giles a couple of times and she had written Xander a letter apologizing for the way she had treated him. That, and the whole attempted murder thing. But she had yet to make peace with Buffy. 

"How's Red doing?"

"She's in a coma. The doctors aren't real hopeful. Both she and Tara had severe head trauma. Tara can't remember anything for the last month."

Faith looked at Angel, then down to the glasses, then back. "Angel, thanks for coming by and telling me this. I think I need some time to figure all of this out." Inside, she felt hollow and empty. Granted she hadn't been on best of terms with any of them, but it still felt as if something special had been torn away from her life. She realized that in the past two years, she had allowed some of the armor, some of the hardness to fade from herself, allowing her to take a look at who she was inside and admit, in the privacy of her own soul, that she wasn't the bitch she had always shown the world. The irony was not lost on her, that she had to be sent to jail before she could free herself from the prison she had built. 

Numbly, she told Angel she'd see him later, then stood and walked from the visiting area. 

Faith looked over at her friend. Right then, she made a realization, that she had made a friend in prison. God, life was ironic. And this was going to be a bumpy ride. She'd never done the whole upset somebody's worldview thing before. But there was nobody else to do it. 

And if she didn't tell somebody, then nobody would ever know how a bunch of scared teens had managed to save the world. Faith owed them at least that much. She took a deep breath. "Kate, this is going to sound crazy, but what do you know about what really happens in LA after dark?" 

_Time passes. _

_ History Moves On._

_ Memories Fade._

_ People grow. _

Faith looked at the collection that sat on the center of her bed. It was a small pile. Not much there. This place had taken 5 years of her life. Even now, she found it hard to believe that she had made it to twenty-two. Five years of time and she was walking out with barely enough to give an army duffel bag some shape. A half dozen books, her GED and associates degree, both received by mail, fourteen old letters, two changes of clothes. On top of all of it was a letter from the California Justice System, informing her that due to discovery of evidence tampering by the LAPD, all charges which she had been convicted of through her plea of no contest had been dropped and she was free to go. More irony there, she thought. She had killed the deputy mayor, albeit by accident, and the courts say the evidence was tampered with. But she had to admit, that the time in   
prison had probably kept her alive. She was still the Slayer, but now had the maturity to balance the raw power that came with that burden. 

She hoped it would be enough. She knew that there were plenty of things out there, and not a few people too, who would be coming after her once they found out that there was another Slayer hunting. She bared her teeth in a predatory grin as that thought crossed her mind. One thing about prison was that there was always a controlling force in place, other than the guards. Here, it was the Yakuza. 

'The Fates must just laugh their butts off when they think about all of this irony,' she thought. Most people who get sent to prison come out better criminals. Faith on the other hand had finally grown up, at least somewhat. The Yakuza had taught her many things, at least after she had saved the life of the local clan's Wakagashira, or second in command, from a demonic Mafia enforcer, while he was being held for trial. Before that, the Yaks had pretty much ignored her. Afterwards, they had an honor debt which they wished to wipe from the books. Faith had noticed how the other cons walked around those women, much as vamps had walked around her at Willy's bar. And so she watched and learned. And in the process made a few valuable  
contacts. Contacts who had taught her martial arts and weapons styles in a way Giles would have been ecstatic about. People who had taught her honor and duty. And, although she had a different sense of those things than her teachers had, they had still made their mark on her. 

She remembered Angel telling her that the Council had determined that a new slayer, the Hourie girl, had been called about a year and a half after the defeat in SunnyDale. No one knew exactly what that meant. It was so long after Buffy, Giles and Xander had vanished thatWell, basically nobody knew what to think. And another Slayer had been called soon after that. The cycle continued.

Faith heard the door to her cell slide open, for the last time with her as its occupant. "Stevenson, grab your stuff. Time to go."   
Grabbing her bag, the soon to be free Slayer took one last look around, vowing never again to go down the path with had led her to this place. But she was not sad to leave. The only real friend she had made had been transferred to another facility a couple of months earlier. There was nothing else for her here. She stepped out of the cell and began her walk towards freedom and took the next steps on her road to redemption. 

_The road to redemption, and of personal forgiveness, is a long and windy one._

_ To those not on it, it is but a shadowy illusion, _

_ To those who tread its path, it is the most difficult endeavor ever undertaken by man._

_ But it starts with a single step, and goes from there. _

In her rear view mirror, Faith watched the highway patrol cruiser which had just passed her. Three years after getting out of jail she still harbored a slight suspicion of the police. She wondered why, especially when she had been guilty of what they had sent her to jail for. 

A few miles later, she spotted a motel which would do for the night. A few hours of rest, then back on the road. She had to cover a couple hundred miles more tomorrow morning so she could scout out the area before dusk. After checking in, she used her phone card to check in with her sources in the area. Chicago was not an area she got to all that often. But there was something going on in the old industrial district which had demon written all over it. And that meant that she was in the windy city. As she dialed, she wondered what kind of demon was behind things this time.

Someone picked up the other phone after a half a dozen rings. "Minor Arcana. Serving Chicago's Mystical community since 1912. This is Dani, how can I help you?"

"Hey Dani, its Faith. Long time no talk. How's the shop doing?"

The lady on the other end chuckled. "Five by Five. Or at least I thought it was You coming to town?"

Faith explained to her that she was heading in to check out some suspicious disappearances from the south side of town, along with the mutilated bodies which had shown up in the morgue. The Slayer then asked if Dani had heard anything which could help her.

"Actually, its gotten really quiet around here after dark. A lot of the demons and vamps have cleared out of town in the last week or so."

"Something going down amongst the bad guys?"

"No, that's just it. A lot of the good night dwellers have pulled out too. And almost everybody who is still in town is laying low.   
Really low. I've heard some rumors but nothing I can really verify."

"And the rumors would be?"

"You heard of Death?"

"I'm assuming you don't mean the guy with the robe and the  
scythe"

"Nope. I'm talking about the, hell I don't even know if it's a man or something else, but whatever it is, the demons around here call it the Knight of Death, or sometimes the Death Knight."

"Well, that's a catchy nickname. Have to say that I haven't heard anything about this character though.. Care to fill me in?"

"Don't know much more than that to be honest. All I know is that something has been cutting a swath through the demon community throughout the Midwest and its heading this way. They say that nobody who has faced it and fought has survived. That its whole purpose is to kill all the demons in the world."

"Boogey man for the creeps?" 

"Don't know. But you need to be careful Faith. If even a third of what the demons say about this thing are true, then it could even take out an experienced Slayer like you."

"Any chance it could be doing the killings?" 

"Don't know. Like I said, nobody knows what it is, or even exactly where it is. If it is, you may want to call for help. I don't want to see you hurt. Anyway, you going to swing by for supplies this trip?"

"Yeah, I don't need anything in particular, but I do have some things I collected you may want for the shop. I'll try to swing by day after tomorrow. See you then?"

"Lunch is on me. See you then Faith. Carpe Nocturn!" 

Faith hung up the receiver. This Knight thing was a new wrinkle in the mix. She'd have to see if Angel knew anything about it when she talked to him next week. Hopefully it wouldn't be too late to make a difference. 

Laying her katana beside the bed, and tucking an ironwood dagger under the pillow, Faith lay down and drifted off to sleep.

Tomorrow the hunt would begin and Faith would do her best to keep any more innocents from being lost to the maw of the darkness.

End Chapter 2

_Well, what did you think?_

_ Feedback keeps my Muse happy. _

   [1]: mailto:icewing@one.net



	4. Chapter Three

Untitled Document

Disclaimer: I downloaded the characters from Napster to see if I like them. I'm going to buy the cd... Really....

Fallen from Grace  
Chapter Three  
By IceWing ([icewing@one.net][1])  


A cold wind whispered between the once bustling buildings of Chicago's once thriving Lake Calumet neighborhood. Now, as the clock struck the witching hour, the only movement on the street was a tattered newspaper, long since faded by the sun and rain, which skidded this way and that on the cracked streets. The streetlights, long since shot out, arched over the pot-holed roadways like gallows, providing not light, but a testament to how the entire region had been written off by the people of Chicago. Both the buildings and the few people who huddled together in them were out of sight and out of the mind of the general populace. 

Luminance spilled from around a corner, as a vehicle crept through the surroundings. It moved like a hunting beast, like the being behind the wheel of the one time Tahoe SUV. Its color seemed to drink up what light shone down from the stars, as if to hide its existence from the universe itself. 

The wind shifted, and the sound of crinkling newsprint could be heard as the massive wheels rolled over the once animated paper, grinding it into the dirt as they moved on. 

The truck turned again, disappearing into the gaping maw of one of the countless abandoned steel mills which were strewn across the area. 

Silence returned. A few moments later, had anyone been watching, a form ghosted from the entryway, into the shadows, moving silently as it began to hunt for its prey. 

The hotel alarm clock let loose a death warble as Faith hit the snooze button a bit to hard. The shards of shattered plastic dug  
into her fingers, bringing her to full alertness when, in fact, she wanted nothing more than to sleep 'til noon. 

The Slayer cursed as she sucked on her bleeding fingertips. Demon fighting strength sucked when you were in that half awake, half asleep zone. "Well, so much for sleeping in" She grabbed her watch from the nightstand and saw that it was almost ten in the morning. Sighing, she rolled from the bed and padded towards the shower. 

A few minutes later, she emerged from her room, her damp hair reaching below her shoulders. A beep emerged from her Mustang Interceptor as she used the remote. A second later, the engine rumbled to life and the door popped open. She slid in, placing her katana in the clamps on the passenger's floorboards, then covered it with a blanket. Checking her mirrors, she dropped the Mach One into reverse and pulled out of the lot, heading for downtown. 

Minor Arcana's storefront was extremely simple, especially when you considered that it was one of the most esoteric suppliers of Chicago's, not to mention most of the Midwest's, mystical community. If you needed something for a spell or some obscure seventh century tome, odds were either it was in stock or they could have it for you within a week. Faith spotted a parking spot about a half a block away from the store, and pulled in. After dropping some quarters into the meter, she grabbed a couple of duffels from the recesses of the trunk and headed into the store. 

Walking through the doors was like stepping into another world. Even after half a dozen visits to the store, Faith still wasn't sure how to categorize it. It was kind of a cross between Victorian England and Far Eastern Mysticism, with a dash of Arabic influence thrown in for fun. It kind of grew on you. 

The soft tones of the door chimes had yet to fade from the air when one of the employee's made an appearance. "Welcome to Minor Arcana. How may I-- Faith! Good to see you." The young woman rushed over and gave the Slayer a hug. Seeing the bags Faith was carrying, she almost began to salivate. "Got some goodies for us?" 

The dark-haired Slayer chuckled. "I sure do. Santa's got lots of presents this year." One sideline of the Slaying business, which Faith had figured out soon after being released from prison, was that many of the things which crossed paths with a Slayer were also the sources of many ingredients sought by magicians around the world. Couple that with the stash she had recovered from Sunnydale and the occasional cache of assets left around after she dealt with certain demons, and Faith had managed to not only keep herself fed, but was building up a nice little retirement fund. She only hoped, a long shot she knew, that she would get the opportunity to need it. 

Faith moved towards on of the large tables off the main room and began emptying the contents of the bags carefully. Dani whistled softly when she saw the labels on some of the bags. "Man, I don't know if the boss is going to sing your name in praise or cry." 

"Why do you say that?" 

Dani held up an army surplus canteen labeled 'Hellhound Blood, Sept 7'. "Do you have any idea what this stuff goes for an ounce? And you've got two duffels worth of high grade components here. It'll restock his supply of some of this stuff for a year, but he's gonna owe you a bundle!" She laughed for a moment, then stepped behind the counter, into another room to retrieve her boss. The two returned a couple of minutes later, as Faith was perusing the shop to see if anything caught her eye. 

"Greetings Ms. Stevenson. I am pleased to see that you though of us when you found such a cornucopia of materials in your possession. If you would be so kind as to give me a few moments, I should be able to give you an evaluation as to what I will be able to compensate you for this bounty. Also, if you speak with Dani, I have taken the liberty of compiling what little data we could assemble on this Death Knight who is in the area." 

"That would be fine Mr. Quinlan. And I thank you for the effort." Faith pulled a list from her jacket and handed it to him. "I've put together a list of supplies I need, which should balance the scale a little bit." 

The shop keeper looked over the list and nodded. "Yes, most of this we have in stock. The ironwood throwing knives are a specialty item. But when you spoke with Dani yesterday, I placed an order with Togo Tojo, who is the only man I know capable of the quality you desire. They should be arriving within two days. The only other request which I am currently unable to fulfil for you would be the spirit warding charms. My primary supplier of those is a Houngan in New Orleans and he is currently on a dreamquest. If it would help, I can give you his address before you leave town so that if you head down south you could stop in yourself." 

Faith thanked him and turned to Dani. "So, what's up with this Death character?" 

The young woman opened up a folder which was sitting atop the checkout counter and slid it over to Faith. "Basically, this --  
let's   
call him a guy, for now, showed up about three or four years ago. Nobody knows what he is, or what his deal is. All anybody knows is that when he moves into an area, the demon population drops to next to zero really quick. A few demons have managed to get away by playing dead or hiding, but not many." 

"Any kind of description?" 

"Nothing consistent. A couple of the survivors claimed that the guy was wearing some kind of hard armor, like old plate mail or something, which is how the whole Knight thing came into play. Only thing which stays the same is that the guy came out of nowhere, all in black, killed everything that faced him, with guns and swords by the way, then vanished again. No yelling, no threats, just killed everything he could." 

Faith mulled over the information for a few moments. "Well, not too many demons like to use guns, but that's not really a hard and fast rule. Didn't speak... Either he's a mouthless demon or he just doesn't like to talk. Again, not much to go on." The Slayer sighed. "I wish I knew which side this guy was on." 

"Kinda sounds like he's on his own side." 

Faith reviewed the notes in the file that Mr. Quinlan had assembled for her. The Knight, whoever or whatever he was, had first been reported in Atlanta close to four years ago, but there were some indications that he had started hunting somewhere in the deep South a few months previously. After that, the damage swath indicated that he had slowly moved through an arc of the eastern seaboard before swinging west through Ohio. 'And now he's getting to Chicago just about the same time I am. Great. Just my luck.' 

The store owner walked up, holding a notepad in front of him. As Faith noticed his approach, she swung the folder closed, so as to give him her full attention. "Well," he began. "I must say, you have quite an assortment here. By far the largest you have brought in to date. As you can see, I have documented the weight of each item, as well as the quality, which I must say is quite high overall. If I may be so inquisitive, where did you learn to butcher so neatly?" 

Faith grinned. "Would you believe on a 'gator farm down south?" 

The shopkeeper chuckled. "From what I have learned of you, indeed I would. But, back to business. I can offer you twelve thousand, seven hundred in cash, plus a store credit of twenty five hundred, in addition to the items you have requested." 

The Slayer pondered it for a moment. Close to fifteen grand. Gods, she loved her job. Sometimes, anyway. When things weren't trying to kill her, or worse. 

After a couple of moments of haggling, she had upped the store credit by another eight hundred and everybody was happy. An hour of picking over the store's selection later, as Faith was gathering her purchases, Mr. Quinlan handed her a thick envelope. "Ms. Stevenson, it has once again been a pleasure to do business with you. The cash portion of our transaction is inside, as well as a copy of your store credit and a list of items for which I would be grateful if you kept an eye out." He took the boxes from her and carried them out to her car. Turning to her, he gave her a fatherly hug. "The knives will be in the day after tomorrow. I hope to be here when you come by, but if I miss you, know that there are many who are indebted to you for your standing against the darkness. Fight well, Slayer!" And then, before she could say anything, he was back inside the shop. 

Faith stood there for a moment, stunned. In all her time as a Slayer, she could count on both hands the number of people who had thanked her or who had thought she was something special. 

Most of them were dead. 

She sighed as she sat down in the driver's seat and brought the engine to life. She couldn't protect everybody. Hell, for a while there she had been as bad as what she had been chosen to fight. 

But that was then. The past. 

As she pulled into traffic, she felt as though some of the weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Someone believed in her. Believed in what she was fighting for and was thankful that she was out there, holding the line. It wasn't a lot, but it was something. Her thoughts slipped back to the only two other people who had looked past the exterior she had constructed, and believed there was something worth saving. One of them was gone, but Angel had been so good for her. Helping her in prison, teaching her how to deal with life again and showing her how to earn redemption one good deed at a time. 

Yeah, life was good. 

Silently, the dark figure watched the battered steel door. He had tracked the demon's path from one of its traps back towards its lair, but now that he had found it, he had no choice but to wait. Although it seemed as if only one of the lizards was nesting here, he had to be sure. If he killed the one he was sure of, and there were others, they would try to flee. Try to hide from what they had coming. 

Vengeance would not be denied. 

All would die. 

Time passed, and the shadows grew long. The door slid open, screaming as the rusted tracks were disturbed by the immense weight of the heavy steel. As the demon left to check its traps, a wraithlike form ghosted its way inside, to wait. He had to scout the entire interior before the demon returned from checking its traps. The Knight knew that this type of demon, its name roughly pronounced as Kauro`PnuDra, was a hunter; and that part of its traditions were that it could only eat from kills made by either itself or its clan. 

The Knight also knew that it preferred to feel its prey's blood spilling out as it feasted. Which is why it used the traps it did. When something stepped on one of the traps, it was wrapped in some kind of stasis bubble, until the demon was ready. When it had enough filled traps, it would bring them all to a hunting maze, where it and all of its clan would gather. Then the traps would be opened and the slaughter would begin. 

And so the Knight waited, for he would kill all of the demons who appeared at the hunted. 

Yes, there would be a great hunt. As the hunters became the hunted. 

Dusk was spreading its fingers across the sky as Faith continued scouting around the abandoned industrial district. It was obvious to her that something was going on around here. There was no one on the streets -- even in the most crime-ridden neighborhoods, or the most vamp infested, there was at least somebody out. 

Nothing. Not even a stray dog. Faith felt cold, despite the warm weather. 

The only reason she could think of, that all of the people to be missing, was that they were dead. Killed by a demon. No matter how far the people around here had fallen, they deserved a better fate than that. 

Her hand fell to the hilt of her katana as Faith felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. 'Why do I get a bad feeling about this...' Faith felt something shift under her foot. She started to look down when things started to slow down. 'What the..' 

And Faith's world stopped. 

The Knight watched from the niche he had found in the catwalks. The demon had been busy it seemed. Placed about the building, he had found a half dozen of the traps, their shimmering shells obscuring who or what was trapped inside. But that was not his concern. There was too much cover over parts of the hunting area, so he had staked out what seemed to be the Demon's favored spot. The gnawed bones gave it away. 

He checked his weapons again. Only one of the building's doors remained functional. That had been confirmed on his check of the perimeter, seeking out any other demons that may have been hiding in the shadows. The hunter had chosen his site well -- save for the fact that he had not left himself an emergency exit. That's what happened when one forgot that there was always someone out there who was stronger, faster or smarter. 

Of course, the Knight had an additional advantage. Tomorrow didn't matter, he simply wanted to kill as many of them as he could. 

The sounds of the door being pulled shut reached his ears. The magnetic catch he had placed would seal the door shut as effectively as a welding torch, for a time at least. 

Drawing a shallow breath, he exhaled, feeling the tension leave his body. 

Time to hunt. 

Time for vengeance. 

'...hell?' 

Faith inhaled sharply. She was not where she had been a second ago. Her katana slid free of its scabbard as she dropped into a defensive position. 

'Ok, I was outside, walking along the street. And now I'm here.' As she finished surveying her surroundings, Faith saw no immediate threat. 'Not exactly reassuring...' Glancing down, she saw what it was that she had stepped on before...whatever had happened, had happened. Some kind of crystalline disc. Carefully, she stepped to the side, onto the cracked concrete floor. When it didn't explode, she felt a bit of relief. 

"Must be some kind of trap or something magical." Poking it with the tip of her katana didn't yield any result, nor did it react when it was flipped upside down. "Well, that was uninformative..." 

Cautiously, Faith moved away from the crystal trap. She noticed the jumbled piles of scrap and the holed walls. 'Just where in the hell am I?' she wondered. 

A roar that the Jurassic Park 3 team would have loved to get a sample of, shattered the silence. Faith spun about, trying to figure out where it had come from. 

Where ever she was, it was obvious she wasn't alone in here. 

End Chapter 3

  
Well, what did you think?

Still wondering if anybody has figured out the prophecy and who it is referring too... Let me know what you think.. My muse works in exchange for feedback and canned goods.

   [1]: mailto:icewing@one.net



	5. Chapter Four

Untitled Document

Disclaimer: Joss owns the whole universe I am playing in. I'm just renting it and repainting a couple of walls.

Fallen from Grace  
Chapter Four  
By IceWing ([icewing@one.net][1])  


Before the roar had finished echoing through the decaying bones of the mill, Faith was on the move. Whatever had let loose that deafening call was most assuredly the demon which was responsible for the emptiness on the streets -- and she had to stop it before it claimed more innocent lives. Such was the Duty of the Slayer. 

She sighed as she began to move into the warren of passageways which lay before her. It was times like these that she missed being able to work with Buffy and the Scooby Gang, or Angel and his team. Here, there was nobody to watch her back. If she made a mistake, it would more than likely be her last. Pushing those thoughts away, she padded into the shadows. 

The hunt was on.

The demon paused in its tracks, as the scent of its prey wafted past. One, no, two, had passed this way moments before. Both smelled of fear, one of panic. Glancing around, its eyes found a darkened passage and it darted into it. There were only so many ways the prey could run, but in the end they would all be meat for the feast. Fading sounds of talons on concrete moved away as the demon closed on its prey.

Silently, the Knight watched the passages below from his vantage point. So far, he had seen a couple of vagrants trying to find their way out of the winding maze in which they were trapped, but no sign of the demon, save for the roar it had let loose earlier. Until he knew how many he would be facing, he would not intervene. It was a lesson which had been learned the hard way, and at great cost. As the past threatened to well up into his mind's eye, he could feel the scars burning. He forced the memories back down, trying again to wall them up forever. The past was weakness. It stank of failure and defeat. Let it lay in the past. This was the present. 

The shadows were still as the Knight watched. 

Watched, and waited for his prey to be seen and counted.

Taz felt the cold from the bricks pressing into his back. He softly let out the breath he was holding, trying in vain to calm himself down. It was almost pointless, he knew, but the very effort of it kept him from falling victim to the panic which was even now tugging at his mind. 

In the six years he had been on the streets, he had seen a lot of weird shit, and managed to survive. The first time he had seen the true face of the darkness, he had pissed himself and run like the hounds of hell were after him. They had been. He had watched from a rusty fire escape as two of his friends had been torn to bloody chunks of meat as he watched. He'd had to get new pants after that night.

He'd grown up, passing his teenage years watching his back, trying to avoid the creatures out there who saw a homeless kid as either a meal or a plaything. He knew the score. And he knew that whatever had screwed with time and space and dropped him in this damn place was definitely not human, not with a roar like that. And not with all the bones he had passed a few minutes ago. 

Human bones.

Tasuki Shini looked down at the object he held in his hands, and wished it were a machine gun instead of the length of rusted pipe he had found. 'Might as well wish for a phaser or a M1 tank,' he thought. 

He wanted to live. And that meant that he was going to have to get past whatever it was that was hunting him. One way or another. No matter what else he saw, what else he heard, he was going to get out of here.   
A feral grin, spread across his dirty face as the seventeen year old forced himself deeper into the shadows. He was a only street rat, and he knew it. He also knew that rats were great survivors. 

Faith heard another scream, this one all too human. It was closer than the roar had been. And then, suddenly, the scream was cut off, reduced to an inhuman gurgle, then silence. Whatever it was had killed again. And it was coming towards her. 

She silently padded across the rubble, her hands damp with sweat around the hilt of her blade, closing the distance between her and that which had made an enemy tonight. The watered steel of the katana's blade spun idly as she moved into the unknown.

The Knight listened. There were sounds echoing towards him that were almost definitely the demon. Sounds of something hard, like claws scraping against concrete. And a second set which sounded almost similar, but the pitch and the stride were very different. He had figured that the pile of bones, some with shreds of flesh still hanging from them, was the creature's preferred killing ground. And so he watched, knowing that sooner or later, his prey would show. The sounds got louder as the source approached. 

He readied his weapon. The time was fast approaching.

Taz heard the sounds of runningwell, running something, coming closer. He tried to slide further into the darkness, as he held onto the pipe as if it were some kind of talisman

He tensed as he saw a figure come running out of the passage which lay across the room. He started to relax as he realized it was a woman, about his age he would guess. And the sound wasn't something creepy and slimy after all, but the sound of her high heels hitting the concrete as she ran. 'Girl's gonna break her ankles she keeps running like that in those shoes.' He was just starting to wonder why she was running at all, when the second source of the sound emerged from the shadowed passage. 

His first thought was that it looked like something from a sci-fi movie, or maybe some kind of horror flick. But he knew that there was no way this nightmare had been created by the Hollywood makeup wizards. This was a true monster, and it was out for blood. And from the red stains on its claws and across its face, it had already claimed at least one kill tonight. Taz knew that if that thing caught up with the girl, she was dead. And he could tell it was gaining on her. And he could see from her face that she knew it.

For another heartbeat he watched the scene unfold before him. She was going to run past his hiding spot, about a dozen feet away from his crouched form. 'Oh no,' part of his mind whispered to him. 'Look at her, she's just some hooker. She's nobody. Don't do this. Its suicide.'

He tightened his grip on the pipe.

'You don't even know her. Come on, think about it. First rule of the street. Protect yourself, nobody else will.' 

His face twisted into a snarling mask as the girl ran past. His muscles tightened and he let everything go.

As she rounded a corner, Faith took in the scene before her, and for a split second, time stopped, giving her the chance to evaluate what was happening, so she could respond properly.

A girl, not much older than when she had been tapped by the Powers That Be as Kendra's successor, was running. Had been running anyway, now she was falling as one of her high heels had become wedged in a crack.

Behind the girl, Faith saw the demon. Lizard-like, ugly as sin and bigger than most professional wrestlers. Blood dripped from its claws and its teeth. It was advancing on the girl, set to make her its next kill. Its path was taking it almost to a right angle to Faith, and she doubted it could see her, as she couldn't see its eyes from where she was. 

And off to the side of the demon, slightly in front of it, coming out of the shadows like some kind of runaway truck, was a ragged looking teen armed with a length of pipe. 

'Well crap. Too many innocents in here. The girl might be safe if lizard boy there stops when that pipe hits him. Although I bet that the kid is going to get hurt. No way I can get there first. Damn! If I'd just been a bit faster.' Faith pushed that thought down. Self-criticism could wait until after the fight. 

Time resumed its normal stride and Faith rushed towards her foe.

The demon roared. Its prey was falling before it, and this would be an easy kill. Three more steps and it would be upon the human and blood would flow. Fear and panic always made it taste that much sweeter.

That's about the time things stopped going according to its plan.

Pain flooded its system as something impacted its right knee from behind. Stumbling, it turned, just in time to get hit in the chest by a length of iron pipe.

Taz smiled inwardly. He had slowed the thing down and, indeed, the Fates were smiling upon him today. A bit of motion behind the monster caught his attention. Another girl, although this one had come much better prepared than the high-heeled girl, who was currently sprawled on the ground, mewling in pain from her obviously messed up ankle. This one, he saw, was ready to fight. Complete with sword in hand. But he knew that if he fell back, the monster might have a chance to avoid the girl with the sword. Or maybe it would attack the girl on the ground before she could get away. His mind stepped back and watched as his body, as his spirit, acted.

Faith kept closing the distance. The guy had managed to do better than she had expected, and the demon had turned its attention toward him completely, allowing her to move up behind it. The guy's eyes caught hers and she knew he saw her and more importantly saw her sword. She gestured for him to move back, to stay out of the demon's range of attack. Faith watched as his eyes went from her, to the girl on the ground, to the demon, then back to her. A slight shake of his head told her that he was going to stand his ground, keeping the demon distracted until she could attack. 

The Slayer just hoped he survived his courageousness.

The demon snarled at the human before it. How dare such a pathetic creature strike at it. He would feast on its flesh and grind its eyes beneath his claws. Feinting, he snarled as the human over compensated and then struck. Scaled hands wrapped around the pipe and wrenched it from the human's grasp. Before it could do more than gasp, the demon swung it swiftly, hitting the teen in the ribs and lifting him off of the ground with the impact. As the human skittered across the floor before coming to a stop in a pile of trash, the hunter stepped forwards, lifting the pipe to smash that smirk from the teen's lips.

The sound from behind stopped it in its tracks, and it turned to see the source.

Faith cursed silently as the demon began to turn while she was still ten feet away. 'Well, so much for surprise.'

The demon hesitated for a moment as it saw another human, this one armed with a sword, moving in on it. That gave Faith the chance to finish closing the distance and press her attack. The sound of metal on metal echoed throughout the cavernous structure as the melee lasted first seconds, then minutes.

The Knight watched the battle unfolding below, keeping an eye out for any other demons being drawn to the site by the sounds of battle. After a few minutes, he felt sure that the one demon was all there was in the area. 

He fixed his target in his mind and slowly exhaled.

Faith wove a shimmering shield of steel in front of her as she fell back a couple of steps. The demon's scaled skin was almost as good as some types of leather armor she had encountered before, and the beast kept managing to block the blows she was aiming towards its throat. 'Time to change strategy,' she thought to herself. 'Take it out a piece at a time.'

A feral grin crossed her face as she prepared to move back in again, focusing on the demon's left hand. She stepped in, and her katana flashed out. When she pulled it back, the watered steel edge was tinted with blood. 

"Gonna be kinda hard to hold that pipe when the rest of your fingers are twitching on the floor. Why not just give up now and make this..." Her words were cut off by the tearing sound of gunfire. The demon in front of her screamed as its knee was ripped apart by a burst of high velocity projectiles. As the second round was being fired, Faith threw herself to the side, scurrying for cover behind a pile of concrete rubble. She gripped her katana tightly, waiting for a third burst to tear through the beast, or through her. 

It never came. 

She could hear a muffled thump as something hit the ground. Hesitantly, she slid her blade around the side of the rubble and used its polished surface to see what was happening. What she saw was a dark figure recovering its feet after landing from someplace above. It strode towards the demon, which was writhing on the floor in agony. Aimed at the now crippled demon was an assault rifle or submachine gun of some kind, smoke drifting from the barrel. Slowly, she rose from behind the pile of debris, and took a step closer. "This must be the Knight," she whispered to herself. 

Looking at him, she could definitely see how they had arrived at the name. From head to toe, he was clad in mostly hard black armor plates. In the few places the plates left exposed, the material underneath seemed to almost absorb the light. Faith couldn't tell for sure if the figure was even human, due to the stylized helmet which hid his features. The visor reflected when the light hit it at the right angle, but that was the only indication that it was any different from the material that made up the rest of the armor. Around his waist, Faith saw some kind of belt, seemingly military in nature, covered in ammo pouches and the like.

'Definitely not some one I want pissed at me.'

He moved towards the fallen demon, which had rolled on its back and was now trying to keep an eye on both Faith and the Knight. 

"My Clan shall track the both of you till the sands are soaked in your blood. There shall be no escape, no peace for either of you. Your heads will be hung as trophies and your bodies fed to the slarn!"

"Hey, what do you mean both of us?" Faith retorted. "He's not with"

Her words were cut off by the tearing sound of a three round burst being fired, point blank into the demon's chest. The orange blood splattered across both him and her, but only Faith seemed to notice.

As she was still trying to process what had happened in front of her, the Knight bent down over the demon's still twitching body. A blade slid from his right gauntlet and with a pair almost surgical slices, the reptilian head tumbled free. Taking hold of the tendril's which seemed to serve as hair, the Knight retracted the blade, then, almost out of spite, put another burst into the bloody chest of the vanquished foe.

Looking at the figure standing over the now extremely dead demon, Faith realized she had no idea what to make of this guy. He had killed the demon, although she was sure she would have been able to take it. That was a point in the good guy column. But on the other hand, he had obviously been stalking the thing, waiting, and therefore watching as it killed at least two or three innocents, thereby taking away the previously earned point from the good guy column. She had to know more before she could make a decision. Before the thought had even finished running through her head, Faith took a step towards the dark clad form, to get a better look at him.

In an instant, the Knight spun towards her, crouching, his rifle pointing at her stomach. Faith felt a small flutter of fear as she realized that if he pulled the trigger, then it was all over. The scattered light silhouetted the shape of his helmet as he looked her up and down, as if trying to figure out what exactly to make of her. The muzzle of the rifle did not waver, but Faith noticed a slight movement, almost as if he was looking at her quizzically beneath his armored visage. And then he straightened again and the muzzle moved almost imperceptibly downwards. He started to speak, but the voice was rough and grating, like a machine which had moved in years being coaxed back to life.

"Leave this place, Slayer. Your kind is needed to defend the innocent."

Faith spoke before he could retreat in on himself again. "Why did you help me?" She hoped she could keep him talking long enough to get a better feel for what he was and what he was up to.

"I did not help you Slayer. I killed it. You were in the way as far as I am concerned." The Knight's voice was beginning to smooth itself out, as long-disused muscles awoke. He turned to leave, the ichor dripping from the head in hand.

Faith reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "Wait" 

Before she could say more, the Knight had reacted, and not in the way she had been hoping. Spinning away from her touch, he pivoted, bringing his arm around and hitting her upside the face with the demon's severed visage. Faith fell to the ground. Before she could rise, she felt a weight on her chest. The knight had planted his knee against her chest and was backing it up with his bodyweight. As she was trying to figure out what had just happened, Faith heard a sound like that of a sword being drawn from its scabbard and then felt the caress of a razored edge against her throat. After a moment of utter silence and stillness, she slowly looked down, following the Knight's arm to the three claws which had sprung forth from the gauntlet on his left arm. The three claws which were currently pressing sharply against her jugular.

"Do not touch me again, Faith. For if you do, it will be among the last things you choose to do. And the world needs the few defenders it has left, especially an experienced and seasoned Slayer like you. Don't force me to take your light into the darkness again."

He withdrew the claws from her throat, and then with a sudden motion, delivered a sharp blow to her head with his gauntleted fist. 

When Faith regained her senses, she immediately scoured the building but there was no sign of him, save for the spent cartridges next to the headless corpse. As she moved to check on the last two victims, Faith began to wonder. How did he know she was a Slayer? And not THE Slayer, but A Slayer?

Yet even more worrying, at least in her eyes -- "How did he know my name?"

   [1]: mailto:icewing@one.net



	6. Chapter Five

Untitled Document

Disclaimer: Joss owns the whole universe I am playing in. I'm just renting it and repainting a couple of walls.

Fallen from Grace  
Chapter Five  
By IceWing ([icewing@one.net][1])  


Chapter 5

  
Faith finished checking the perimeter of the room, hoping to find some sign of the mysterious figure who had killed the demon, then a few moments later, hit her upside the face with the demon's severed head. 

"Damn," she snarled. The only thing she had been able to find was a handful of spent cartridge casings from the Knight's weapon. Although the demon had been defeated, for some reason Faith felt as if she had lost the battle tonight. As she approached the downed teen from the fight, she wiped the blood from her blade and slid it home into the scabbard on her back. Her weapon secured, she knelt down by the young man's side. 

As her fingers gently probed his side, the teen's eyes fluttered open. "Stop jabbing me with that knife!" His voice was on edge, obviously in a lot of pain.

Faith lifted her fingers from his side. "No knife, and my nails aren't that long That was a pretty brave thing you did. The girl would be dead if you hadn't stepped up." Her fingers, still tinted by the demon's blood, were feeling his ribs again.

A snort of derision escaped from his lips. "Brave? Stupid is more like it. I don't even know her."

Faith shook her head. "That's what makes it even more courageous. You risked your life for a stranger." She finished checking his ribs and helped him get a bit more comfortable by sliding some packing material under his head. "Well, the good news is I think you'll live. You've got a couple of cracked ribs, but I don't think they punctured anything. Does it hurt?"

"Only when I breathe. Did you kill whatever that demon thing was?"

"You know about demons?" Faith was glad she wouldn't have to do the whole 'open your eyes' speech.

The teen looked up at her with something that fell somewhere between contempt and incredulity. "I'm a street rat, of course I know about them. Not all of us are as blind to the obvious as the rest of the world. When something eats your friends in front of you, you generally tend to believe in it a bit more" With some effort he got himself into a sitting position. "Look, I'm sorry if I'm being an ass, but this is a little more than I was counting on when I went out to get some food. God, I hate Mondays!"

Faith chuckled. "Um, actually, today's Thursday."

"Thursday? You're shitting me, right?" The Slayer simply shook her head. "Well, fuck. There goes all my stuff! God damn demon piece of shit!" He tried to get up, so he could go kick the body a couple of times, but the pain in his side drove him back to the ground. "Or maybe I'll just stay here By the way, thanks for saving my ass. What's your name anyway?"

"Name's Faith, and its no big. You were trying to save her, I just thought I'd return the favor."

He turned his head and looked at the girl laying on the floor. "Speaking of such, you think you better check on her?"

Faith nodded, flowing to her feet like a panther. Carefully, just in case there was another one of the demons around, she crept over to the fallen girl. She reached out, putting her hand on the girl's shoulder to roll her over and check her for injuries.

The shadows were wrapped around him like a protective cloak. Silently, he watched the scene below. Of all the cities, she had to show up here. For a fleeting instant, the memories of the past, images of Sunnydale rose up, beating against the walls and barriers he had erected to keep them at bay. 

Closing his eyes, he focused himself, forcing the memories away. The past was dead for him. As he was dead to it. Dragged through the dirt from them as the waves of foes had continued to advance. An armored hand touched his neck, knowing the scar was there from where his blood had been loosed to spill upon the ground, drop by agonizing drop. Where the blood had soaked the earth as he lay on a fresh grave, unable to close his eyes, watching the battle unfurl before him. Helpless and scared as he had seen three foes advancing on Giles as he stood over Buffy, waiting for her to recover. Then the darkness which had stolen him away. 

The night rippled as he vanished, not looking back towards the survivors below. The Darkness in which he was destined contained demons he could never defeat.

"Hey there," said Faith as she rolled the girl over, trying to be gentle in case there were injuries she couldn't see. The blood curdling scream which erupted from the girl startled Faith, but not as much as what happened next. Before she could even begin to react, the girl pushed her hands into Faith's face and clenched down on something. 

Faith instinctively pushed the girl back, trying at the same time to keep from hurting the little 

About that time, her eyes suddenly began to feel as if they were on fire. She could feel some kind of liquid running down her face and it felt like it was burning her skin right off. "Oh shit!" she cursed as the pain got worse. She tried to wipe her face clean with her shirt, but it didn't make the pain stop. "God damn it! What the hell did you do to me you little bitch?!" She kept trying to wipe the fire from her eyes, but it was no good. "FUCK, that burns!" 

The girl on the ground looked up at the completely pissed off Slayer, fear in her eyes. "Oh god, I'm sorry, I thought you were going to kill me, that you were that thing and you were going to finish me off. I sorry, please don't hurt me"

Faith gritted her teeth, trying to calm her breathing and compartmentalize the pain which was washing over her. "Oh, I'm not the demon, but I can't say that wringing your little neck seems like a real bad idea right now! What the FUCK did you do to my face?!"

The girl held out a small canister, but between the tears streaming down her face and the pain which was making her keep her eyes clenched shut, Faith didn't even know something was being shown to her, much less be able to read it. 

From his vantage point on the floor, Taz watched what going on and as the girl extended the cylinder, almost apologetically, he read what it said. 

The dark haired fury turned, eyes clenched shut, as she heard Taz begin to laugh. "What the hell's so damn funny," she snarled through her clenched teeth.

"Sorry, its just kinda funny. Here you are, a kick ass warrior who just took down a major league demon And a street walking teenybopper took you down."

"Look, do you know what the hell she did to me or not?!?"

"Sorry to tell you this, Faith. But looks like she spayed you with mace!" With that, Taz busted laughing again, ignoring the pain from his ribs.

"Mace! I got stopped by a little girl with a can of mace?" The disbelief was evident in Faith's voice as she tried to comprehend this. "Shit, this is just not my night!"

After a couple of minutes, Faith's eyes cleared up and she was able to see again, although there was still a slight burning sensation. "If you try that shit again, I'm going to have to do something violent to you Understood?" Faith waited till the girl nodded before proceeding, then asked the girl her name. A hesitant moment later, it was revealed that her name was Chastity. Chastity MacDougal. The dark haired slayer looked her up and down, taking in her blatant attempt at looking like a hooker and asked why anybody dressed like that, out at night, would even think of calling herself Chastity. 

Almost immediately the girl broke down and began to cry. As it turned out, she had run away from an abusive boyfriend the week before and had gotten picked up by a pimp at the bus station. Now, she had nothing left and the pimp, a guy named Jocko, had forced her onto the streets earlier that night to sell her body for food. Faith muttered something about the kind of men who would do something like that while Taz looked positively furious. 

Faith considered her options. In good conscience, she couldn't leave the two here, and neither of them had anything to go back to. Sighing, the Slayer looked at the two. And in each of them she saw an echo of herself. Lonely, scared, and teetering on the brink. "Do either of you have anything keeping you in this town?" Both shook their heads, although Taz grimaced a bit as he did so. Faith pulled out her cell phone and hit one of the speed dial combinations. After two rings, somebody picked up the other end. 

"Hey Blondie Yeah, its me and no, I don't care what's on TV right now. I've got a couple of street kids here who need a hand. Yes, I'm serious. Fine, I'm calling in one of your favors. Oh, stop your bitching, you know you like this better than sulking around for decades on end. Fine, I'll call you in the morning. Ok, noon." Faith hung up before the two teens could figure out what was going on.

"So," she asked. "How do you two feel about New York?" 

As the skyline of Chicago shrank towards the horizon, Faith's mind was racing faster than the Mustang which carried her down the highway. The words the Knight had spoken played over and over again in her mind.

"Do not touch me again, Faith," he had said. "For if you do, it will be among the last things you choose to do. And the world needs the few defenders it has left, especially an experienced and seasoned Slayer like you. Don't force me to take your light into the darkness again."

It still bugged her that he knew her name. That fact alone was gnawing at her. Somewhere, sometime, she had met this character before. 'When?' she kept asking herself. Was it in Sunnydale? Before she had arrived on the west coast? Perhaps in the few short months when she had been in Boston, after she had received the dubious privilege of becoming a Slayer. But if that had been the case, how had he known about her little foray into the dark side? The part about being forced into the darkness again couldn't mean anything else. No, scratch that. He had been threatening her, so it had to have been a reference to her coma. Which still meant that this guy knew a lot about her. He knew a lot, period. A Slayer, not The Slayer. Her coma, or working for the Mayor back in 1999; either way, if he knew of one, he knew of the other. He knew her face and he knew her name. 

And she didn't have a clue about him.

Faith sighed. She rolled what little she knew about the Knight around in her mind. Demons feared him. First noted in the deep south, with first confirmation in Atlanta. An east coast boy, then. Maybe. There were too many unknowns in the equation for her taste. Sadly, the dark haired beauty wished, not for the first time, that she knew where Giles was, or even that she knew he was alive. Although she had gotten better at it over the years, research was not her strong point and she knew it. She didn't have the flair for it, nor the instinct that her one-time Watcher had possessed. 

That thought brought her mind back to Boston, and her first Watcher. Jaclyn Smythe, although she would always be Jackie to Faith. One of the few adults, nix that, authority figures Faith had ever felt comfortable around. The female Watcher had pulled Faith off the streets and helped her accept the powers which were coursing through her, before she had gotten killed by her own arrogance. Jackie had been one classy lady and had saved Faith's life more that once before she had ended up as message left by a vampire who thought he would make a name for himself by taking out the new Slayer and her boss. But in the end, he had gone down, reduced to no more than a pile of dust underneath Faith's, and Buffy's, boots. Some of the guys in the street gangs she had run with in Boston had been almost as good as the Knight had been with guns, but none of them knew anything about the whole Slayer gig. Not coming up with any real promising candidates from Boston, Faith shifted her logic to Sunnydale. 

The choices were a lot slimmer on the west coast. Faith knew that Angel was still in LA, as was his team, including Wesley and Gunn. 'Wesley Although it's not him, maybe somebody else who has bailed from the Council. That would explain the whole knowing about my past part of it, as well as the combat skills.' Yet another set of candidates was now in the mix She sighed, this was supposed to eliminate possibilities, not expand them. 

Well, Sunnydale was a lot easier to eliminate. Tara had lived there since The Day, watching over Willow, trying to coax her out of her coma with love and magic. The rest of the gang was gone, either dead or MIA. Military speak, hmm. Could this guy be one of the old Initiative troops? The equipment was flashy enough, but he acted more like some kind of predator than a soldier. Plus, a soldier would have stuck around to check on the wounded Not to mention the whole hitting her upside the head and threatening her thing.   
  
A slight frown on her face, Faith pushed on the accelerator a bit more, racing towards the place she loosely called home these days. St. Louis. Maybe after a couple of days of well earned sleep, she would have better luck. 

She knew that this last trip had run her down a bit. She wasn't the hellion she had thought she was at seventeen and a six week road trip of slaying, fast foods and bad motels took its toll, even on a Slayer. Once she had recharged a bit, she would put out her network of informants and allies, trying to track this character down Although he might not be an enemy, he knew to damn much to be ignored. 

And Faith couldn't get it out of her head that this guy knew her. 

And that was a very bad thing, because although friends come and go, enemies accumulate and enemies were something she watched very, very carefully.  


_Nine Weeks Later_

Faith dragged herself through the door, barely making it to the couch before collapsing on it in a boneless heap. To put it mildly, she looked like hell, and to be honest, she didn't feel much better. 

A soft knocking came from the door, which in her exhaustion she had failed to close all the way. "If you're not Ed McMahon, then I'm going to have to shoot you on principle. Go away and come back next week!"

"So sorry to disturb you ma'am," came a youthful sounding British accent. "But, I am Reginald Sinclair, from the home office in England"

"Oh happy day, mail call from the illustrious Council of Watchers. Well, get your butt in here and shut the door." Faith watched as the Council's liaison entered the house, gingerly shutting the door behind him. She grinned as he got a good look at her for the first time and his face turned almost beet red. The dark haired Slayer couldn't really blame him for his reaction. Her clothes had gotten pretty much mulched in last nights battle and she hadn't had any spares left, so with large portions of skin showing, including a pretty hefty piece of her stomach left bare, she had simply come home. "What, no lecture on the proper attitude towards the almighty Council?"

"No, Ms. Stevenson. I have read your files and quite obviously you are extremely skilled in what you do. Your style works well for you, although it is not what we prefer, and as it is your life on the line, the Council is here to support you, not dictate to you."

"Well hot damn. Somebody with a lick of sense. Will wonders never cease. And stop calling me Ms. Stevenson. The name's Faith. Now sit that tight butt of yours down and tell me what you've got for me this time. Better yet," Faith rolled off the couch and walked down the hall. "You talk real loud, I'm gonna get cleaned up." 

Reginald swallowed as he heard the shower turn on, and then quickly turned his back towards the bathroom as he heard the sounds from the bathroom change, indicating the shower was now occupied. 

"Well, there is not a lot to report at this time in regards to prophecies." Faith yelled for him to speak up. "With two Slayers on call for the past few years, the number of organized demonic groups willing to try to bring back the Dark Times has fallen considerably. I feel I must mention that your comrades in LA and New York have assisted quite a bit also, although there are still some in the Council that feel that William the Bloody is a dangerous ally at best."

Faith yelled back that Spike had killed more vamps and demons than any Slayer could realistically ever hope to. 

Reginald bit his tongue. He knew that Faith was a champion for those who wanted to change, regardless of their past, and he had to admit, William had indeed, it seemed, turned over a new leaf. The shower turned off and a moment later, Faith was back in the room, clad in jeans and a tight fitting tee shirt. 

"So, Reggie, what else do you have for me?"

Shaking his head at the unorthodox nickname, he placed his brief case on the table and opened it. "Well, first of all, your monthly check. Now, before I give this to you, the accounting department once again requests that you do at least try not to have too many more of your hotel doors kicked in. I know it's part of the job, but they are nothing if not efficient little bean counters. Otherwise, not too much. The Council has, per your request, begun development of a ranged wooden dart projector which can pass through a metal detector, although it will probably be at least two or three months before prototypes can be shipped to you. Also," he pulled out a large file folder and a CD ROM. "Here is all the information we have been able to compile on the Death Knight." A faint smile crossed his face. "This lad could definitely give you a run for your money for the highest number of hostiles slain."

"You guys keep track of that stuff?"

"Of course, we aren't called watchers for nothing, you know" Reggie looked at his watch. "I wish I had more time to chat, but I have to catch a flight to Seattle to rendezvous with the Junior Slayer and her team this evening. So, I will give you the highlights, but please do read all the materials this time. There have been reports of abnormally large crocodiles in the Florida Bayous as well as signs which may indicate the presence of an Egyptian cult. Otherwise, most of the activity is currently in the Pacific Northwest. So, you may want to, after dealing with the Florida issue, take advantage of the lull in supernatural activity to take a couple of days off for a vacation.

Faith thanked him and a moment later, he was gone.

After ordering a pizza, the Senior Slayer sat down on the couch and began to leaf through the file on the crocs in Florida. Looked pretty straight forward. Cultists had screwed with things they shouldn't have been, a couple of them got eaten and now there were a handful of giant demon 'gators loose in the everglades. Not exactly what the tourist industry wanted right before the busy season. Well, at least it was warm down there, although the idea of slogging around in the swamps wasn't exactly her idea of fun.

The pizza arrived as she was finishing that research and before long, she was flipping through the other file, trying to keep the pizza grease from staining the pages as she ate. The Council had definitely done its homework this time. Not a lot on the background end, in fact the dossier she had gotten from Minor Arcana seemed just about as complete in that regard, which wasn't saying much. The Council however had managed to track down a whole slew of confirmed sightings, complete with date and a brief summary of each. 

Faith got up, licking the pizza sauce off her fingers. She was going to track this joker down, one way or another, if for no other reason than to keep tabs on a bad ass demon killer Plus, she kinda wanted to get a better look at him. "Now, where'd I put that map"

End Chapter 5 

   [1]: mailto:icewing@one.net



	7. Chapter Six

Fallen From Grace - By IceWing

Disclaimer: I downloaded the characters from Napster to see if I like them. I'm going to buy the entire show... Really....

Fallen from Grace  
Chapter Six  
By IceWing ([icewing@one.net][1])  


Chapter 6

The raven haired Slayer studied the map hanging from the wall, trying to pry free the secrets it held. For a week now, she had looked at it, trying to see a pattern in the pushpins which rose from its surface. Sighing she leaned back against her desk. "Damn it, I know its there, I just can't see it."

From the cluttered desktop, her hands plucked the stacks of papers which she had mapped the sitings against. On top was a complete list of all the sitings of the Death Knight, ordered by date. "By date Maybe that's the secret here" Moving quickly, she pulled all the pins free, small holes in the map and rooted around in the top drawer for the colored pushpins she had in there. Plastic bin in one hand, summary sheet in the other, she advanced on the map once more. 

Thirty minutes later, she had something which made a bit more sense, but still wasn't clear. Faith had noticed that there where several distinct 'trips', each lasting several months, with a two or three month interval between them. But there was no real pattern she could see. One was in the northeastern seaboard, two passed through the Midwest, and two wound around the south and southeastern seaboard. But there was no pattern.

Faith stared at the map for a moment and then just about kicked herself. She was looking at a geographical map. No roads, no airports, no railways. Sighing, she scrounged up another map and stuck it on the eastern wall of her office, then repeated the push pin routine. Almost as soon as she started on the second "hunting trip", she saw the pattern emerging. The Knight was sticking to the interstates to get from killzone to killzone. The path wasn't straight, in fact it almost seemed chaotic, but where there was sighting, the was always an interstate route passing through from the last attack to the next one. 

Once all of the sightings were marked, again, on the map, Faith slowly traced her fingers across it. "Well well, oh mysterious one. You're not quite as good as you think." She smiled as she pulled out a marker and drew a lopsided circle on the map. All of the pathways she had on the now punctured map seemed to start and end inside of the same general area. An area which seemed to stretch in a angry circle of about a hundred miles with its center somewhere near the Pennsylvania - Ohio - West Virginia border. 

"Picked the middle of nowhere to base out of, didn't you. Not bad Gonna be tough to track you down cuz of that," said Faith to nobody in particular. "But you're just to much of a riddle to leave running around unchecked." Ruefully, she laughed, muttering about how she sounded like some villain out of a b-movie. But inside, something was telling her that she had to do this. The Knight knew too damn much, and he'd made it abundantly clear that he really didn't have any allegiance to the white hats. So, she was going to have to figure out what the hell was going on, and deal with it one way or another. The fact of how much he knew about her, worried her. Not just because of what he could do, but because for some reason, part of her was worried that there was another monster out there, one like the one she had been for a few months. And this time, she might have had a hand in its creation.

Her eyes stared at the red circle on the map as Faith tried to figure out what to do next. After about twenty minutes, she blinked and reached for the phone. Staring at the map wasn't going to get her the answers she needed. Hitting the speed dial, she waited for several seconds before hearing the odd ringing coming from the other end. 

"British Museum, Division of Aboriginal Antiquities, how may I help you?" answered a prim English voice from across the Atlantic.

"I need to talk to Reggie Sinclair."

The voice paused for a moment. "I'm sorry, there is no one in this department by that name."

Faith sighed. "Look, this is Faith, as in the Senior Slayer. I need to talk to Reginald Sinclair and I need to talk to him now. I'm not in the mood for this denial shit today. I know this is the Council of Watchers. You know you're the Council of Watchers, so please, stop jerking me around and put me through to Reggie, or next time I'm in England, I'm gonna have to kick your ass. NOW PUT ME THROUGH!"

Faith grinned as she heard the operator swallow over the phone. "One moment please." Acting like a bitch still worked when politeness wouldn't.

A moment later, a different voice came on the line. "Reginald Sinclair speaking. How may I help you?" 

"Hey Reggie, its Faith." 

"So I had gathered from the rather panicked introduction from the receptionist. Now that you have scared the poor girl out of her mind, what can I do for you today? No bad news I am hoping."

"Nah, I just need a favor."

"A favor?" Reginald found himself being a bit wary. The nature of Faith's favors were a source of trepidation for young watchers, many of whom were quite glad to be assigned to any task but the liaison with the Senior Slayer. 

"Oh, stop worrying. Its nothing like that. Although if you're a good boy" she let her sultry voice trail off before her mirth got the best of her and she laughed. "Seriously, I need you to do some serious research for me."

"Not demonic in nature I take it?"

"I don't think so, but that's not really relevant for what I need from you guys. I think I've narrowed down a search for this Knight character."

"Excellent. But I don't think that our normal, that is to say, non-Slayer, teams would stand much of a chance against a warrior of his caliber."

"Chill Reg. I'm not calling in a strike. I just need to have your research teams get busy for me." Faith relayed the area she wanted put under the microscope. "Tell your boys to look for everything out of the ordinary in, oh, let's say since I became the Slayer. Also, I want to know of any real estate transactions which happened. Ignore anything in town or that's on a small plot of land. This guy is going to want some privacy. You still have a copy of the paperwork you gave me?" Upon hearing that indeed, the Council had kept copies, Faith continued. "This guy goes out of town for long stretches of time. See if you can't get into the power company and see if there are any accounts which have big fluctuations in the electric bill. Get the idea?"

"Indeed, I do Miss Stevenson. I will get the research division on it post haste. Will you be available to receive a report."

Faith grinned as she headed to her bedroom and grabbed a bikini. "Nope, I'm heading to the swamps. Gonna wrestle me some gators again!"

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** 

The Mustang roared down the freeway, a brunette haired Fury at its wheel. The slowly setting sun had turned the sky into a breathtaking array of colors, which Faith looked at as the miles rolled past. Not for the first time, she was glad that the Mach One had an automatic transmission. It would have been next to impossible to steer and shift gears with her left arm immobilized as it was. Damn gators and their fascination with death rolls. The bite itself hadn't been that bad, it was getting jerked around like a rag doll. 

The Slayer smiled as she thought about the bags full of gator skin in the trunk and really hoped she didn't get pulled over before she could unload it. Demon-Gator skin had to be worth a nice chunk of change. And the steaks were tasty too Gotta love dry ice. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the chirping of her cell phone ringing on the passenger seat. Holding the steering wheel with her knees, she slid the headset on and hit the receive button. "This is Faith."

"Miss Stevenson, this is Reginald Sinclair calling."

Faith shook her head. "Gods, are you Brits always so damn stuffy." She chuckled. "How many times have I told you, call me Faith?"

"My apologies, Miss, err Faith."

"You do know, I am going to break you of that, one way or another"

"Yes, well, umm" Faith laughed at his discomfort, then told him to go on. "Yes. The research division got back the information which you had requested. Are you able to take notes on this?"

"Sorry Reggie, I'm in the middle of nowhere, doing about 80 on the interstate with a busted wing. No writing for a bit."

"Are you ok?" His concern was evident even across the Atlantic, and Faith smiled. The Watchers today were a long way from the pompous twits she had saved from a demon lord. They knew just how much of a knife edge they walked and that the Slayers were their best warriors. Warriors who were sick of being treated as things, as weapons instead of people. 

"Five by Five. Took out those gators, there were seven of them, by the way. I cleaned up the cult's HQ and there shouldn't be a rematch with that bunch any time soon, as the gators dealt with them before I did."

"If I may inquire, how did you injure your arm?"

"The last gator didn't want to come to me, so I had to go diving after it. Tried to dance and get fresh with me, so I jammed a blade through its skull."

"Are you in need of medical attention?"

"Nah, cleaned it out and patched it up myself. Used some cream I got to make sure no infection set in. Its cool, but its going to take a couple of days to heal up to fighting trim. Now, whatcha got for me?"

"Well, there is a plethora of raw data here. But, we did look at your initial hypothesis and indeed the area you indicated does seem to be some kind of central staging ground for the Death Knight. We were able to narrow it a bit further, based on some more innocuous data we had not included due to its seemingly non-association with the situation. I have taken the liberty of uploading it to the server, so you can surf through it and see what you can make it. There are several parcels of land which meet the criteria you mentioned, and all, from the records we can access, would seem to be likely locations of a covert headquarters."

"Sweet. I'm about an hour out of Atlanta. I'm going to check into the plushest hotel I can find and I'll log on tomorrow and check it out. How'd things go out west for the Brat Pack?"

"Very well in fact. They took out a nest of about a dozen vampires and a demon of the ninth circle with only three minor wounds and rescued about thirty hostages in the process."

"Excellent. Well, if there is nothing pressing, I'm going to sign off, get to Atlanta and get some food."

"I will speak with you tomorrow evening then. Cheerio." And the connection was broken.

As the first signs of civilization began to appear on the horizon, Faith smiled. A good massage and maybe a soak in a hot tub tonight, and tomorrow she'd start seriously tracking down the mystery which kept nagging at her. 

And maybe get a new pair of boots made Her laugh filled the air as the car raced on.  


** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** 

Dawn was stretching its amber fingers across the sky as the heavily modified Chevy Tahoe moved along the gravel driveway, towards a wooded glade. The sound it made as it passed over the shredded stones was like broken bones grating against each other. A careful observer would notice that the road wound in such a way that unless a passing motorist happened to see the truck vanishing from view, there was no sign that there was a functional building hidden by the trees. But, a careful observer had noticed the road itself, after days of criss crossing an area several counties wide. A careful observer who was currently hidden in the foliage of the trees which surrounded the civil war era plantation house and it well maintained outbuildings. 

From her vantage point, Faith watched as the SUV rolled up to a building with an overhead door and paused. With a rasping noise, the door rolled up into the building. The raven haired beauty noticed how thick the metal on the door was, almost like steel planking instead of the normal fiberglass panels. The sound of the engine died as the door began to descend. Just before the door obscured her view, Faith saw the armor clad leg of the Knight stepping down from the truck. 

"Well, now I know where you live. Lets see how long you can stay hidden now." She whispered before edging back into the woods. 

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** 

Powhatan Point had to be one of the most boring towns Faith had ever visited. Or driven through. 

Hell, it was more boring than most towns she had ever even heard of or seen on TV. This place was making Mayberry seem cutting edge. As she cruised through the streets of the town, she couldn't get the feeling of a time warp that seemed to surround her. This was a place which seemed to never get out of the 1950's. There was a coffee shop, not Starbucks or any other trendy place, but an actual diner style restaurant. The gas station had a couple of service bays and even offered full service. Looking down at the gas gauge, she thought 'what the heck' and pulled in. As she dropped the gearshift into park and killed the engine, she looked down to make sure her katana was covered up. No point in getting the locals overly interested in her. She rolled down the window and asked the attendant to fill her up with the good stuff. She chuckled as the attendant asked her if she would like her oil checked. Definitely a time warp. Faith nodded and popped the hood release. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Faith noticed as a police cruiser slowed as it rolled past her. She held her breath as the officer looked over the car and then her. Their eyes met for a moment and the officer nodded to her. The Slayer returned the acknowledgement with a soft smile. Most cops were closet car nuts and the Mach One always got a few stares. Not many classics like it were on the road anymore. The only downside was that sometimes she got mistaken for a dragster, but that was easy enough to talk her way out of. 

The attendant, having finished checking the oil and topping off the tank, approached the window. "32.98 for the fill Miss, and your oil is fine." She thanked him and handed over thirty five dollars. Waving off the change, she asked if there was a place in town were she could get a room. "Yes Ma'am. There's a bed and breakfast on Sycamore. We don't have any hotels in town. Just take this road till you get to the stop light, then turn left. Its about three blocks up on the right. The sign's right by the road, you can't miss it."

Faith thanked him and started the big block engine, pulling out of the station a moment later. Following the teen's directions, she found the bed and breakfast and got a room for the night.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** 

The sound of the softly falling rain muffled any noise which Faith may have made as she wound her way through the woods towards the hidden buildings at the center. It had been a week since she had gotten to town, a week since she had watched the Knight pull up the driveway on the opposite site of the property. A week of surveillance which had, so far, resulted in absolutely zip. 

Suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Acting on instinct, she spun around, just in time to see the Knight preparing to jab her with what looked to be a cross between a stun gun and a cattle prod. Without even thinking, the Slayer let loose with a snap kick, knocking the weapon out of the Knight's grasp and into the underbrush. 

"Didn't anybody ever tell you its not nice to sneak up on a lady."

The Knight's reply was just as raspy as the first time Faith heard it. "You're no lady Faith, and you're trespassing." Before she could respond, he opened up on her with a combination of punches. His speed caught her off guard and the first one slipped through before she could get her blocks up. It felt like she had been hit with a baby sledge. 

Backpedaling, Faith announced it was her turn and opened up. She unleashed a series of kicks, two of which managed to get past the Knight's blocks and weaving dodges. Faith was amazed by the fact that although he was at least phased by the attacks, neither really seemed to do much. And, it felt like she had just kicked a brick wall. Before the black clad figure could counterattack, she fired off a couple of punches, straight to his face. And was unpleasantly surprised when he caught her arm and executed a textbook Aikido throw. 

The feeling of her face skidding across the ground was something Faith really thought she could have done without experiencing. As she flipped back to her feet, a glint in the brush caught her eye. 'Bastard's got the woods wired. He probably saw me on day one.' That thought was driven from her mind by the flying snap kick the Knight delivered to her chest. Pain ripped through her body as her breasts caught the armored boots dead on, with only her leather jacket to absorb a fraction of the energy.

Gasping, Faith fell to the ground. The Knight stepped up, ready to deliver a powerful kick to her ribs, but before he could, the possum playing Slayer hit him in the gut with a full strength mule kick, knocking him back a few feet. "Oh you are so fucking dead you son of a bitch!" 

The spinning crescent kick hit the Knight full force on the side of the helmet. The sound of the armored plastic shattering could be heard as the armored form fell to the ground, a glittering shower of fragments arcing through the air behind him. 

The Slayer drew back her foot to deliver a powerful stomp to the now exposed visage. Her eyes fell on the shattered visor and the now revealed, bloody face and in that instant, what she saw chilled her to the bone. Faith dropped to her knees next to the prone figure, in disbelief.

"Oh my god! Xander?!?"

End Chapter 6

Well, what did you think?

   [1]: mailto:icewing@one.net



	8. Chapter Seven

Fallen From Grace - By IceWing

Disclaimer: I downloaded the characters from Napster to see if I like them. I'm going to buy the cd... Really....

Fallen from Grace  
Chapter Seven  
By IceWing ([icewing@one.net][1])  


Chapter 7

  
Even as Faith was kneeling down, trying to reconcile what her eyes were seeing with what she thought she knew, that was the a man she long thought dead was trying to kick her ass, said man was flowing back to his feet. His hand rose to the now broken plastic of the visor which for so long had concealed his identity from the rest of the world. He shook his head, as if in disbelief. "Slayer, do us both a favor and go back to your world. Leave me in mine. Now."

Faith reached out towards him, still not believing this was real. That small motion was enough to kick the Knight's reflexes into play. Automatically, he knocked her hand away before it could make that contact he so wanted to avoid. "Xander, come on, its ok. I'm not going to do anything."

"You don't get it, do you Slayer? I don't want your help! I don't want your pity. I don't even want you here!" He lashed out again, a solid spin kick which Faith managed to block.

"I don't want to fight you Xander." Faith was backing up, trying to buy some time to get through to him, but it wasn't working out very well.

"I'm going to make this really simple for you!" He screamed at her as in one fluid motion he drew the 9mm pistol from the holster on his thigh. "Leave me the fuck alone and stay the hell away from me!"

Faith stared at the muzzle, which seemed to be large enough to launch torpedoes from. "Xan, don't do this, please."

"Slayer, I told you. Leave this place and forget that you ever saw me, ever even heard of the Death Knight. I will fight the war on my terms, taking the war to the evil. Avenging those who have fallen before it."

"Xander. Please, put the gun down." It took all her control not to try and knock it away from her, but she knew that if she made one wrong move, then it was all over. She couldn't dodge a bullet from less than six inches away. "Please Xander, don't push me away. I made that mistake with you once, long ago. Let me make it right. Let me help you?" Her voice was almost begging, wanting to offer a hand to help the man before her, who had once tried to do the same for her. 

"I told you to leave this place Slayer." The gun twitched, as it to tell her what direction to leave in. "Now go, and forget me. Or stay and become my enemy." Faith watched as he thumbed back the trigger, noticing the tremble that was in those fingers.

The moment crystallized and time stood still. Faith knew what was about to happen, as it had happened with her in LA all those years ago. She could see it in his eyes. She could turn and walk away right now, not risk getting her brain splattered all over the woods by the one of the Slayerettes. Or she could try and help Xander as he had tried to help her. Part of her brain reminded her what had almost happened that day as she remembered slowly choking the life from him with her bare hands. But Angel had managed to save her, to get through all the guilt and the pain and the anger. 

Was she as good as Angel? Did she believe in Xander as much as he had believed in her? Would it matter? The part of her mind which had kept her alive on the streets and in prison was screaming at her to forget it. _Xander had chosen this path, let him ride the lightning. Tuck tail and run, better be a coward than to be dead. That's a gun barrel six inches from your skull. And the guy holding it isn't the same teen who tried to redeem you, or saved your life multiple times. That's a maniac standing before you. A cold blooded killer. You watched him pump round after round into that demon, you've mapped the swath of death he's left behind him. He'll pull the trigger and you know it. Be smart and walk away. Hell, think about your Duty. You stay here and he kills you, the worlds only got one slayer again and you know as well as I do that she's no where near your level. Is that what you want to leave behind to protect the world?_

Duty.

_That's right, Duty. You have one and you know it. Now do the right thing._

Honor.

_Oh, you stupid little That's it, you're on your own. I can't believe you're actually going to try this. You get your brain evicted from our skull and I'll going to be so pissed. _

Time snapped back to normal as Faith took a deep breath, hoping any gods or the Powers that Be were feeling giving today. "Xander." Even as she spoke the name, she saw the tremble again in his fingertips. "I'm not just a Slayer, and you know it. We used to be buds, remember? Fighting side by side? SunnyDale? Ringing any bells?"

As she watched Faith saw the confusion in his eyes, the inner battle that was going on.

Seeing the whitening of the tissue on the trigger finger, Faith knew she couldn't dodge, couldn't move fast enough to avoid the slug, which would rip into her. She'd rolled the dice and they had come up snake eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you Xander. That I couldn't save you." With that, she closed her eyes, and exhaled slowly. 

The Knight stood there for a moment, his finger tight on the trigger, staring at her, before throwing the pistol to the ground. Hearing the thunk as the metal hit the dirt, Faith opened her eyes and looked at Xander.

"Umm, thanks for not shooting me?"

Xander's only response was a quick right cross, which hit Faith square in the jaw and knocked her to the ground. "Damn you, Slayer! Why couldn't you just leave me the fuck alone? If I wanted to see you don't you think I would have said hi in Chicago?!? Seen if you wanted to get a cup of coffee and talk about old times?!?" Rage rolled off of him like heat from a bonfire. 

From her now seated position, Faith wiped the blood from her lip, then up at Xander in amazement. "Ok, considering you almost blew my brains out, I guess I should be happy you only slugged me, but what the FUCK is wrong with you Xander? What the hell happened to you?" Faith held out a hand for him to help her up, but he just stared at her.

"What happened to me? Why the hell should I tell you anything, Slayer?"

Faith had regained her feet by this time and got up in his face a bit. "I have a name you know? Or did you forget it, Xander?!?"

He seemed to flinch as she called him by his name, but quickly recovered. "Xander Harris is dead. He died in SunnyDale a long time ago. You don't know me Slayer. Just leave."

"Oh, Hell No! You're not getting rid of me that easy. And don't give me this shit that Xander Harris died in SunnyDale. I can see plain as day that you're alive and standing here, so why don't you talk to me and knock of this Slayer shit or I'll kick your ass Harris."

"Don't call me that!" he roared. "Alexander Harris is gone, dead, finished. I am the Knight of Death and that's all that I am!"

"Bullshit bucko. You can't just try and say the past means nothing. Believe me, I've tried. Its always part of you, it defines who you are. That's why you keep calling me Slayer, isn't it?" She poked him in his chestplate. "You're trying to keep some distance, keep it from being personal. Well, I've got news for you, Harris! You're not dead, and I'm right here in your face and I'm not going anywhere till I get some answers. So, you better get used to it. Everybody thinks you're dead and now that I've found you, there's no way in hell that you're going to slide back into the shadows, you got that?!?"

"You know what?" He paused as he took of his now broken helmet and looked at the damage. "I don't owe you shit! You tried to kill me and I ought to return the favor. You fucked me and then threw me out on my ass. I tried to help you and you thought it would be fun to see how tightly you could squeeze your fingers around my throat! Don't you get it? I don't want to have anything to do with the past. I was weak in the past. I couldn't fight. I couldn't save anybody. I couldn't even save myself. I don't want to be who I was. I'm better now and you better just fucking deal with it!" With that he hurled the helmet at her chest and turned to storm off.

Faith took a step and a half forward, then leapt as only a Slayer, or Duncan MacLeod, could. Twisting in midair, she landed a couple of feet in front of him, shoving the broken helmet back into his hands. "You think you're better? What a crock of shit! You're meaner, you're faster and tougher, I'll give you all that. But better? No way in hell! I've been where you are Xander!" She saw him flinch as she spoke his name, but kept going. "You think this armor makes you better? You think all your weapons and your fighting ability makes you different than how you used to be? It does, and its not a good difference. You're dead inside Xan. I can see it in your eyes. You've got nobody and that's gonna end up getting you killed. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But you're gonna lose and end up bleeding out and there's not going to be anybody there to save your ass."

The man once known as Xander Harris, looked at her and for a split second, Faith saw emotion in those eyes. It was too brief for her to identify, but at least it meant he wasn't completely dead inside, no matter how much he tried to hide it. "Oh, is that so, oh almighty Slayer? You think that being all soft and weak and trusting will make sure that there's somebody there to save you if when shit goes wrong! Well let me tell you something!" Faith was backpedaling as he stepped up, his voice causing her ears to ring with its volume. "I had all that before! And you know what it got me! I got to watch the people I cared for get cut down in their prime. I watched as they fell. I watched as they got farther away, as I was drug through the brush by a bunch of demons who thought it would be fun to see how long they could make me last! You think I need to open up and trust people?!? It sure as fuck didn't help me last time!!!!!!!"

   [1]: mailto:icewing@one.net



	9. Chapter Eight

Fallen From Grace - By IceWing

Disclaimer: I downloaded the characters from Napster to see if I like them. I'm going to buy the entire show... Really....

As a note, () () () () () () () () is used to identify what would be a change to another camera on the show.. Its not really a scene change but it was kind of tough reading this without an indicator of some kind.

Fallen from Grace  
Chapter Eight  
By IceWing ([icewing@one.net][1])

Rated R for Violence and Language  


Chapter 8

  
He seemed to flinch as she called him by his name, but quickly recovered. "Xander Harris is dead. He died in SunnyDale a long time ago. You don't know me Slayer. Just leave."  
  
"Oh, Hell No! You're not getting rid of me that easy. And don't give me this shit that Xander Harris died in SunnyDale. I can see plain as day that you're alive and standing here, so why don't you talk to me and knock of this Slayer shit or I'll kick your ass Harris."  


"Don't call me that!" he roared. "Alexander Harris is gone, dead, finished. I am the Knight of Death and that's all that I am!"  


"Bullshit bucko. You can't just try and say the past means nothing. Believe me, I've tried. Its always part of you, it defines who you are. That's why you keep calling me Slayer, isn't it?" She poked him in his chestplate. "You're trying to keep some distance, keep it from being personal. Well, I've got news for you, Harris! You're not dead, and I'm right here in your face and I'm not going anywhere till I get some answers. So, you better get used to it. Everybody thinks you're dead and now that I've found you, there's no way in hell that you're going to slide back into the shadows, you got that?!?"  


"You know what?" He paused as he took of his now broken helmet and looked at the damage. "I don't owe you shit! You tried to kill me and I ought to return the favor. You fucked me and then threw me out on my ass. I tried to help you and you thought it would be fun to see how tightly you could squeeze your fingers around my throat! Don't you get it? I don't want to have anything to do with the past. I was weak in the past. I couldn't fight. I couldn't save anybody. I couldn't even save myself. I don't want to be who I was. I'm better now and you better just fucking deal with it!" With that he hurled the helmet at her chest and turned to storm off.  


Faith took a step and a half forward, then leapt as only a Slayer, or Duncan MacLeod, could. Twisting in midair, she landed a couple of feet in front of him, shoving the broken helmet back into his hands. "You think you're better? What a crock of shit! You're meaner, you're faster and tougher, I'll give you all that. But better? No way in hell! I've been where you are Xander!" She saw him flinch as she spoke his name, but kept going. "You think this armor makes you better? You think all your weapons and your fighting ability makes you different than how you used to be? It does, and its not a good difference. You're dead inside Xan. I can see it in your eyes. You've got nobody and that's gonna end up getting you killed. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But you're gonna lose and end up bleeding out and there's not going to be anybody there to save your ass."  


The man once known as Xander Harris, looked at her and for a split second, Faith saw emotion in those eyes. It was too brief for her to identify, but at least it meant he wasn't completely dead inside, no matter how much he tried to hide it. "Oh, is that so, oh almighty Slayer? You think that being all soft and weak and trusting will make sure that there's somebody there to save you if when shit goes wrong! Well let me tell you something!" Faith was backpedaling as he stepped up, his voice causing her ears to ring with its volume. "I had all that before! And you know what it got me! I got to watch the people I cared for get cut down in their prime. I watched as they fell. I watched as they got farther away, as I was drug through the brush by a bunch of demons who thought it would be fun to see how long they could make me last! You think I need to open up and trust people?!? It sure as fuck didn't help me last time!!!!!!!"  


"What do you mean, it didn't help you last time?" The sudden shift had thrown Faith and she wasn't sure of where Xander was heading with this anymore.

"I'm talking about The Day!" Faith could almost see the capitalizations as he said the words. "I'm talking about watching almost everyone I cared about, as they fell, one by one, in one last battle to try and keep a bunch of innocent sheep safe by saving the world again."

"Tell me," she whispered..

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Buffy idly swung the long sword back and forth as they walked towards the entrance of PineRidge Cemetery. "So what's the big deal about this Glassey Lola guy again Giles? I mean, why'd we break out the heavy artillery for him?" Ever since Riley had left town, they had been saving all of the remaining Initiative equipment they had left, due to the lack of any easy way to repair it if something when wrong. 

From behind her, Giles responded. "Glasyalabolas, Buffy. Now, as I said before, Glasyalabolas is one of the Arch-Dukes of Hell. That is to say, a quite ancient and powerful demon. He is thought to have been a trusted lieutenant of the Old Ones, and is simply put an evil which if allowed to return to earth would be able to carve a swath of death and torment through mankind the likes of which have never been recorded."

"So, better to keep him locked out than try and shut him down once he shows up?" chimed Xander. 

"Indeed. Which is why, as Buffy so succinctly put it, we have broken out the heavy artillery. One of the abilities which Glasyalabolas is purported to have is that he can imbue his followers with a fragment of himself, and consequently his power. Against such creatures, I feel it is better to be overly prepared than ill-equipped."

"As much as I hate to ask it, why didn't we bring Spike along? He's almost as good as, and I can't believe I'm saying this, as DeadBoy was in a fight. And these dudes are as bad as you're letting on, then we might need as much as an advantage as we can create"

Buffy chuckled. "Oh stop being such a worrywart Xander. We're going to kick their butts, just like we always do. Its not a big deal."

"I do wish you would take these things a bit more seriously Buffy. Although we have succeeded in the past in all of our endeavors, there is no reason to become cocky. Underestimating your opponent is almost always a mistake. But, back to Xander's question, from what we uncovered during our research, this particular group has been planning to raise Glasyalabolas for over two centuries, and in that time has amassed a considerable knowledge of dimensional magic and manipulation. Taking that into consideration, along with the fact that some of Glory's minions escaped, the acolytes of Glasyalabolas may know that Dawn is the Key and may attempt to use that to make the ritual proceed in a much abbreviated version, which could keep us from having enough time to prevent the successful completion of said ritual."

"So Spike gets to have paid vacation to San Diego with Dawn as a body guard while we do the real work. Man, sometimes being normal guy sucks." Xander mumbled. "By the way Giles, what's the difference between a lackey and a minion?"

Giles only response as he walked was to remove his glasses and clean them, muttering about American youth. 

"So Giles, what exactly does this ritual entail?" asked Willow.

"Well, to be honest, the only description of it I was able to find was somewhat sketchy, but it requires the summoning, binding and subsequent slaying of, one of the holy host. That will release the energy required for the barriers between the realms to be weakened. After that there will probably be chanting in Latin or Babylonian, depending on the exact sect, and then, if we are unsuccessful in preventing it, the ground itself shall be sundered and Glasyalabolas shall claw his way to Earth and the world will be doomed."

"As a quick side note to that overly cheerful description," interrupted Xander. "Could you elaborate slightly on the whole Holy Host thing?"

"Nice alliteration," said Willow.

"The holy host would mean an Angel. The demons are going to summon an angel, bind it into a vessel, then destroy the vessel, thereby killing the angel and releasing its energy."

"Heads up," said Buffy as she pointed through some trees towards several moving forms. All joking vanished as the gang approached. As they closed, sounds of screaming could be heard, causing them to pick up the pace. 

The group broke from the tree line, weapons ready just as the scream, which was overpowering a rhythmic chant, was cut off abruptly, replaced by a sickening gurgling sound. All saw the crimson liquid being flung onto the marble statue which was surrounded by a group of demons and vampires. "Shit!" exclaimed Xander just before the statue was surrounded by a softly glowing aura. 

"It is imperative that they not be able to destroy the statue!" proclaimed Giles as he charged forwards, Xander and Buffy at his side. Tara and Willow advanced about halfway from the trees then began to speak. Anya stood near them, a spiked mace in her hands.

The demons turned, slightly thrown by this unexpected change in plan. Before they could do more than gape at the humans charging at them, the ground beneath them began to glow in two distinct circles. One of the demons, who had been previously chanting in a language other than English, saw this and threw himself out of the circle, just in time to avoid the pillar of flame that erupted from the ground in each circle and obliterated the creatures which had been standing within. Two seconds later, the fire was gone, the only sign it had been there were two circles of charred grass with the smoking skeletal remains of the beings who had been caught by the spells.

The demon who had thrown himself clear picked himself up from the remains of the headstone that had stopped his flight, and advanced towards the witches and Anya, another demon following close behind. "You'll pay for that, you pathetic humans!" it snarled as it drew an iron blade from its belt.

() () () () () () () () 

Xander, Buffy and Giles found themselves surrounded by about a dozen foes, all of whom were intent on wiping the White Hats from existence. 

Determined to break the ominous silence which had fallen, Xander spoke up. "Hey Giles, you want to take care of Sparky here?" As he said it, he gestured with his tip of his jury rigged bayonet.

"Sparky?" muttered the demon who had been pointed at, just as about 150,000 volts of current hit him square in the chest, courtesy of the blaster Xander carried. That act broke the standoff and both sides sprang at each other even before the smoking body hit the ground. 

Buffy moved forward, intent on taking the fight to the demons. Releasing a flurry of kicks and a couple of punches from her free hand, she knocked the first of the enemy to the ground, where she then severed its head with a quick swipe of the long sword she carried. Xander and Giles advanced behind her, forming the base of a wedge that moved through the demonic ranks. With a savagery that matched that of the demons, Xander butt stroked one of them across the face with the stock of the blaster, knocking several of the teeth from its gaping maw. Giles followed up by driving the razor tip of the gladius he carried into its unholy heart. "Next!" yelled Xander as he lit up another demon like a Christmas tree. "Man, technology is great!" 

() () () () () () () () 

Willow sidestepped the initial charge, bringing her staff down hard on the back of the demon's knees. As it dropped, Tara followed up by cracking it upside the head with her own hickory cudgel. Screaming in pain and rage, the demon rolled forward and regained its feet before Anya could add her own attack to the fray. 

() () () () () () () () 

Leaping into the air, Buffy let loose with a spinning crescent kick against the orange skinned monstrosity in front of her. The impact of her boot partially masked the sound of its spine being snapped by the supernatural strength of the Slayer. "Damn, why can't it always be that easy?" she asked as she landed catlike on the balls of her feet, sword ready to slice into the next demon in the pack.

Even as Buffy was moving on the next demon, Xander and Giles were working as a well practiced team. The duo were working a demon, whose sheer size was even more intimidating than normal. The strength associated with such a size had prompted the men to try a more unorthodox technique against this foe. Xander moved in to attack with the bayonet on his blaster, then as soon as the demon moved to counter, he would pull back, whereas Giles would then move to attack. The constant feinting was causing the demon to tire, and its reactions were getting sloppier and slower. Giles watched as the demon over extended itself going after Xander, who was barely keeping ahead of its claws, and then he saw the opening he needed. A quick slice across the exposed stomach opened the demon's intestines to air. With a tearing sound, the innards slid out of the body cavity and onto the ground. In shock from the sensation, the demon stopped and tried to pull its guts back into itself. As it struggled, Xander lunged, piercing its dark heart with the bayonet. Turning towards the next foe, he commented to Giles that these guys would be a lot more dangerous if they weren't so dumb

() () () () () () () () 

Launching from the ground, the demon slammed into Willow, who was driven to the ground. She tried to fire off a spell to buy her some time, but the demon stopped her effort by slicing the knife against her side and then followed it up with a head butt with its horned visage.

Flipping up to its feet, the demon drew back and kicked her hard upside the side of the head with its right foot. Her reddish locks snapped to the side as her head hit the dirt and unconsciousness mercifully claimed her. 

Her attacker drew back to kick her again when it suddenly roared in pain. Several of its ribs were shattered by the rapid arrival of a spiked mace crashing into its side. Fueled by pain, it spun about knocking the offending weapon from Anya's grasp. She tried to backpedal, to put some distance between herself and the demon who was advancing on her, but couldn't move fast enough. A second later, the scaled claws of the demon were entangled in Anya's blonde hair and she was pulled towards it. "That hurt little girl," it snarled. "But not as much as this will." With that it repositioned its hands on either side of Anya's head.

() () () () () () () () 

Across the battlefield, Xander hears Anya cry his name as he stomped on the throat of a fallen demon, leaving it to drown in its own blood. Turning, his eyes viewed a scene which would long be etched in his mind's eye. A demon had its hands on either side of Anya's head, and was laughing evilly. "No," he whispered. Anya's eyes met his, and she could see the pleading look there, begging for him to save her even though she knew it wasn't going to happen. He watched as she mouthed that she loved him, but before he could return the words, the demon wrenched her head to the right, breaking it with a savage snap. Laughing, it let her go. Xander watched helplessly as his fiancé fell to the ground like a marionette with its strings suddenly cut.

"NO!!!" he screamed with a visceral rage and took a step towards Anya's killer. 

"Xander!" said Giles in his most authoritative tone. It had the desired effect, and Xander's head snapped towards the Watcher, rage and pain in his eyes. "Stay by my side!"

"I have to"

"No Xander, you can't help her now But we're still outnumbered, and if you go over there, you'll probably get killed as well. You'll fight emotionally and that will be all the edge the demon needs to kill you as well"

For a split second he looked as if the words didn't matter, but then he turned away from the body. "We'll deal with you in a minute you bastard!" he yelled. "Thanks Giles. I don't"

Before he could finish, another demon clipped him at the knees, knocking him to the ground and trying to tear into his chest with its teeth as well as trying to shred his leg with its lower claws. He tried to bring the blaster around but couldn't bring it to play due to how close the dogface was. Without thinking, he put one hand on the demons face and drove his thumb into its cyclopean eye with all the force he could muster. There was resistance for a moment, then a pop and his hand was covered in optical fluid. The demon began to flail about, reaching for its face with both hands and completely forgetting about the human it had been trying to eat just a moment before. Taking advantage of the situation, Xander began pummeling the demon upside the head with the stock of the blaster. Controlled rage fueled his strikes and within a couple of seconds, the demon's head gave way, leaking orange blood down its matted fur. 

() () () () () () () () 

Stepping over Anya's body, her killer moved towards Tara, who was protecting Willow's unconscious form. "Two down, one little one to take down. My, my You humans are just to pathetic to be in charge of this world. A plague that I will be glad to help Lord Glasyalabolas rid this stinking world of."

Rage filled Tara as she looked upon the two forms that stood menacingly in front of her. "We've stopped your filthy kind from try after try to get rid of us. You call us weak. Well, if w.. we're weak, what does that make you, that wave after wave of demon dies a bloody death trying to take us down" Tara began to chant softly, throwing a handful of something she had pulled from her pocket into the air. 

The demons leapt at her as she continued chanting, but Tara sidestepped the first and ducked under the second, never stopping her chant. As both demons regained their footing, she held her hand towards the first, so that from her viewpoint, it looked as if she was cupping part of their body in her hand. Then, with the dagger in her other hand, she made a quick slicing movement, which seemed to go through the part of the demon which it appeared she was cupping, then continued into her hand. The blood sprung forth from the cut, but before it could even well up to the surface, she repeated the action on the other demon.

The blood poured from her hands like ribbons. It spun about in midair, glowing a fiery red that shifted to golden near the edges. The mass grew to about the size of a baseball, then split, then both orbs grew back to that size before flying towards the demons, striking each of them in the chest, where they both vanished.

A split second passed before each of the demons began to scream in agony. Layer after layer of their skin began to slough off, peeling away like layers of an onion. Within a few seconds, the spell had stripped them of all of their skin, leaving bloody muscle visible. Then that began to peel away. The screaming, already piercing, escalated in volume, as the muscle was torn away from their bodies. Moments later the screaming stopped as all the internal organs joined the bloody piles of cast off demon parts on the ground. Soon, Tara looked upon the fallen skeletons, a sense of completion filling her, then her eyes rolled up in their sockets and she passed out, drained from the power of the spell she had just cast. 

() () () () () () () () 

"I hope you are at peace, human." announced the hook beaked monster standing in front of her. "For I shall enjoying sending you to the depths of the Abyss."

"Sorry, not on my travel plans for today. But how about I send you on a one way trip to oblivion." Buffy pointed the sword at its face. 

The two stared at each other for a few moments, then, almost simultaneously, they both leapt into the air at each other. It looked almost like a scene from the Matrix, save that it was poorly lit and one of the combatants wouldn't be getting up after the scene was over. 

Buffy's sword arced though the air, then sliced through the demon's shoulder and cutting downwards. It was a fatal blow. But it was not the only one delivered. The Slayer felt a cold touch on her arm a split second before the demon's talon sliced deep into her left arm. Both hit the ground with little of the grace from which they had started. Buffy, stuck the point of her blade into the dirt, then grimaced as she tore a strip from the demon's shirt and quickly wrapped it around the bloody gash. Pulling her blade free, she moved closer to the center of the circle, into the light radiated by the statue, pausing only enough to plunge the blade through the demon's heart.

() () () () () () () () 

Giles spun the gladius in a tight circle of steel. The TrawetsAhtram demon reached to its right and ripped a metal grate from the side window of a crypt. "Always use whatever you can find laying around" she said as she smashed through his defense with the wrought iron grill. The roman short sword skittered away as it was torn from his grasp. The Watcher tried to backup, but the demon was too fast. With a savage backstroke, it brought the grill around and smashed it into his side. The force of the strike knocked him off his feet, off the ground and into the corner of a family mausoleum. Blood began to trickle down the side of his face from the wound left by the impact, but his chest continued to rise and fall.

"I do believe that your skull would make a most interesting chalice, from which I could"

The demonic, and rather disgusting diatribe was cut short by the sudden appearance of a bloody object ripping through the distended torso of the monster. 

"Or maybe not," said Xander as he twisted the bayonet in the wound. "In fact, I don't think you're going to be doing much of anything ever again." 

Before he could yank the blade free, the demon liquefied, splashing to the ground and covering his pants legs in yellowish green muck. "Oh, that was fun" he said as he headed towards Buffy.  
  
() () () () () () () () 

"Two left Xander. We can do this!" said Buffy as she moved to the left. One of the demons mirrored her move, leaving the other squared off against Xander. 

"Kinda seems to me that you're a bit screwed here. I mean, bringing a crowbar to a swordfight. Not the brightest demon in the world, are you?"

The demon just grinned at Buffy, saliva slowly dripping from its sharpened teeth. 

"I'd ask if you were born that ugly or if it took practice, but we both know the answer, don't we" Buffy quipped just before she tried to take the demon's head off with her blade. 

The demon whipped the iron crowbar around, intercepting it with massive clang. Buffy stared at the now greatly shortened sword she held. It had shattered at the impact point, leaving a jagged point with about a foot and a half worth of blade above the guard. 

"What, you thought a sword would beat a crowbar? Bet you feel pretty dumb, don't you, blondie?" said the demon mockingly. "Guess your Watcher didn't teach you everything you needed to know after all"

Buffy lunged at the monster, intent on driving the remains of the blade through its grinning visage. 

Unfortunately, the demon had other ideas. With the crowbar, it deflected her strike, then as soon as it was pointed past its body, the demon brought its left fist down with all its force on top of her wrist. The impact felt like it almost tore her hand clean off, but in addition to the pain, she lost her grip on the hilt of her weapon. 

Buffy back flipped to give herself some distance. "What, you think I need a sword to deal with the likes of you?" The Slayer hoped that her voice sounded a lot more confident than she sounded.

Instead of verbalizing a response, the green skinned creature charged her, swing the crowbar. Buffy blocked the first two swings by hammering her fists on its forearms. When the demon stumbled back a bit, Buffy leapt at it, with a flying kick. 

As soon as she left the ground, she knew she had just been suckered. The demon twisted to the side and brought the crowbar down on her thigh. The wet snap wasn't nearly as bad as the pain that followed. Gravity drug her to the ground, where Buffy landed hard on her legs, eliciting a scream from her lips.

"Good, and now that you are on your knees, Slayer. You can beg for a quick death if you think it will help. It won't, but it will make your defeat that much more enjoyable!" 

Buffy looked up at the horned demon, defiance in her eyes. "You really think I'll beg to the likes of you?"

The demon kicked the bottom half of the sword out of her reach before tapping the exposed bone which protruded from her leg with the tip of the crowbar. The pain ran through her body like a white hot dagger. 

"Well, even if you don't I'm going to enjoy hurting you, little girl"

() () () () () () () ()

Xander tightened his grip on the blaster in his hands. A quick glace at the indicator showed that it was almost drained of power. Enough for maybe a low power shot, and that was it. Time for a bit of misdirection. "Well, I guess this means you don't get to experience the sensation of being electrocuted today Its not a pleasant experience, believe me." His eyes looked his opponent over, trying to find a weakness. "Man, you're ugly.. You know that?"

"You talk to much, boy!" And with that it charged.

Xander brought the blaster across his body, angled upwards and drove the bayonet into the demon's rib cage. It looked down in disbelief, which brought a smile to Xander's face. That's when he touched the trigger stud and the little remaining power flowed out of the capacitor bank, across the bayonet and into the demon. It twitched, convulsed and then feel to the ground. "Well, maybe you do get to feel what its like to be electrocuted." 

() () () () () () () () 

Buffy looked up at the demon, a mixture of rage and helplessness in her eyes. "Go Fuck yourself!"

The demon pulled back the crowbar, preparing to bring it down on her other leg, when something tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around, somewhat confused, just in time to get buttstroked across the skull by Xander and his blaster. 

As the demon fell to the ground like a very ugly bag of potatoes, Xander muttered that no way was Buffy going to die a third time, not while he was around.

"Thanks for the save Xander," said Buffy as Xander set his blaster down and moved to help her to her feet. She could see that he was exhausted and battered, but his first thought was still to make sure she was ok.

"Story of tonight it seems. Never quite fast enough to stop the demon before they hurt somebody.." he said bitterly.

Buffy's eyes softened as she started to speak. "Xan, no matter whatBehind You!" 

The already battered Slayerette started to turn just as a demon hit him like a linebacker sacking a quarterback. Both the human and the humanoid went down in a tangled ball of limbs. 

Xander pulled free of the demon and crabbed backwards on the ground for a couple of feet, whereas the demon performed a forward roll and came to its feet. By the time it had turned around, Xander had also regained his footing, but blood was trickling down both his right arm, which he was keeping hidden from the demon with his body, and from a new gash across his torso. "Somebody needs to tell these guys that those claws they're packing could really hurt somebody"

"That's the idea!" snarled the demon as it charged, knowing the human was worn out and would not be a real threat. 

It was still thinking that when Xander's right arm snapped forward from its concealment and moved in what almost looked like an uppercut towards the demon's jaw. There was just enough time for its reptilian brain to question what was the flash that accompanied the human's fist before the broken stub of Buffy's sword tore upwards, through its throat. The combined momentum of the demon and Xander's attack drove the shattered steel through the brain and out the top of the skull. Letting go of the now dripping hilt, Xander stepped back, and watched the body fall to the ground. "Now stay dead you bastard!" he cursed before limping heavily over towards Buffy for the second time in as many minutes.

Gingerly, with what little strength he had left, he helped her to her good leg and over to the statue, where he carefully set her back down. "Stay here," he said as he did his best to make sure she was comfortable against the statue of the angel, which was still glowing with that unearthly light, and that her hilt of what remained of her sword was by her side. "I've got to go check on everybody." 

Buffy looked down at her broken leg. "Trust me, I'm not going anywhere without some help."

On an impulse, Xander leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then began to slowly hobble over to where Giles was laying. About half way there, he stumbled, twisting his already injured knee and falling to the ground. "SHIT!" he screamed. 

"Xander, you ok?" Buffy asked, the worry clearly evident in her voice. She knew that if anything else happened to come along right now, they were in serious trouble Fortunately, sunrise was only about an hour away. 

The Slayerette took a moment to compose himself, trying to block the pain. "Its my knee. Its wrenched pretty good. I think I'll just lay here for a bit." 

"Sounds good." Buffy closed her eyes and tried to calm herself and tune out the pain in her leg. Not the easiest thing to do when the bone 

Xander gasped in pain as he felt claws dig into his legs, breaking the skin and allowing a small trickle of blood to ooze forth. The landscape began to move as he felt himself being dragged away from the scene of the battle. Looking towards the pain, he saw a couple of vamps and a rather pathetic looking demon who had him by the legs and were pulling him towards the underbrush. He tried to struggle, tried to pull free, but the fight, and the wounds which had been inflicted upon him had taken too much of a toll. Twisting, he looked back at Buffy, who close to unconsciousness, sat under the angel, bone protruding from her leg. He cried her name. Her head lifted, the glazed look fading somewhat as she responded with his name His hand reached back towards her, as he was dragged further and further away, but the underbrush soon took away his last chance of rescue. As he darkness fell across his consciousness, the last thing he heard was his hero calling his name.

End Chapter 9

Ok Folks, now in the past 2 weeks, a bunch of you have been reading but very few have been leaving feedback. Feedback equals a happy Muse which means I write more So keep that feedback coming!

   [1]: mailto:icewing@one.net



	10. Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: I downloaded the characters from Napster to see if I like them. I'm going to buy the cd... Really....

Fallen from Grace  
Chapter Nine  
By IceWing (icewing@one.net)  


  
Faith stood there in shock, not fully able to digest what she had just heard. It had been years since that fateful day when Angel had delivered that heart breaking news to her from behind the plexiglass shield of the visiting room. Years which she had adjusted to the loss without ever knowing what had happened in the cemetery that fateful night. Now she knew, and although the years of acceptence of the results dulled the edge of the pain, nothing could stop it completely. 

She could feel the pain in her heart as she replayed his words through her mind, watching in her imagination as those that she had turned away from fell one by one to the darkness Tears welled up in her eyes, as once again she cried for those she wished she had called friend.

But even as the Slayer felt these all to human emotions, she looked to the man before her. His eyes had a distant look, as if he was seeing something far beyond mortal comprehension. Soldiers called it the thousand yard stare. Faith looked past that, past the ache and pain that for that brief moment of time had come through the windows to the soul. That cold, emotionless armor, which had been built over the scar tissue covering the soul, was rendered for those few seconds. And beneath it, Faith saw that the man she once knew, Xander Harris, was still in there, somewhere, alone in all that darkness with nothing but pain, suffering and agony to keep him company.

Gently, Faith reached out her hand and closed her fingers around his. His focus never changed, and in that moment she knew that she couldn't just turn and run, because if she did, then it was only a matter of time until that sputtering spark of his soul would vanish forever into the darkness. And if it did, hell, heaven and earth would quake before what would be unleashed. With a tenderness that any from Boston would have disbelieved, Faith squeezed Xander's hand, and was surprised when she felt a slight pressure in return. "I'm here for you Xan. I'm not going anywhere.."

His head turned, his eyes met her's, and for an instant, Faith thought she saw the old Xander. But before she could even react, the armor snapped back into place, and the pain filled eyes were once again cold, hard and unyielding. His hand pulled from her's, not quickly, but with an unstoppable action. "I'm" He hesitated, as if not sure quite what to say. "I'm not that person any more Faith. To much has happened." His voice trailed off slightly. "What I am, I cannot change. I'm not the boy who watched as those who he cared about were picked off one by one. Now I am the hunter. Now, I implore you. Leave me alone Faith, please." And with that, he turned and jogged back towards the house.

Faith stood there for a moment, trying to catch up with all that had just transpired. By the time she moved to follow Xander, he was already to the house. Even sprinting, she only covered a fraction of the distance before the heavy door slammed shut and she heard the sound of the bolts being thrown, sealing her out. "Damn it," she muttered as she came to a halt on the porch. 'Well, at least he's still in there, somewhere' Tenatively, she knocked on the door, but wasn't surprised when there was no answer. From inside the apparently sound proofed house, Faith thought she heard the sounds of someone, obviously Xander, beating the hell out of his environment. With a sigh, she stepped away from the door. 

'Now what?' she wondered. She wasn't going to leave him and just go back to her routine of driving around the countryside hunting down monsters. If she left for any considerable amount of time, he was almost sure to bolt. And now that he knew she was looking for him, he would be a hell of a lot more difficult to find. But would he bolt anyway? There was no way she could watch the house 24/7. If nothing else, he probably had a bolt hole leading away from which he could escape if he truly wanted to. 

That was the big question. Did he want to? At least part of him was still in there, and wanted that contact she had started. But was it enough? 

"Ok Xander. I'll come back in the morning and talk to you then. Want me to bring you anything?" she yelled. Faith wasn't exactly surprised that there was no response. "Ok. See you in the morning then."

** ** ** ** ** ** 

The scrub grass stretched out around her, laying like a blanket over the side of mountain on which she stood. Beneath her, a small city stretched out towards the ocean. But as beautiful as the scene was, the backdrop itself stole any peace or tranquility which one could have found in the view. 

The sky was on fire. 

Faith shook herself as she made that realization, watching the flames cross the heavens like mad sheets of lightning, consuming all before them like some ravenous god. 'Oh shit, not now,' she thought. 'I don't need one of these damn prophecy dreams.' But, as always, the choice was not her's to make and so she cursed at whatever gods were listening as they threw an extremely unneeded monkey wrench into her plans... The gift of Prometheus, now twisted into something dark and sinister, licked across the sky. A ribbon reached down from the heavens like a whip to hit her, setting every nerve in her being ablaze in pain.

Then, as fast as it had struck her, it was gone, as was she from the spot she had stood. 

Her eyes reopened and she found herself somewhere else. From the pre-dawn skyline, is was someplace in New York, but this was a New York she had never seen before. It was the Big Apple as if it had been descended upon by a horde of demonic worms, gutted and consumed. The streets were deserted, but the stench of battle, blood and death lingered like the smoke that drifted between the now ruined buildings. The burnt carcasses of taxis and commuter vehicles lay in the street like roadkill. "Is this supposed to show me something?" she cried. "Okay, bad things happening. I get it. Give me something a bit more descriptive!" The smoke grew thicker around her, obscuring her vision and making it hard for her to breath.

A gust of wind blew past, and the smoke dispersed.

Blinking her eyes, she knew she had shifted again. To Los Angles this time. She looked out over the city, recoiling from what she saw. It was like a scene from a bad movie. The city ruined, parts still burning. Over the din, she could hear the wailing of emergency vehicles, the screams of terror and the sounds of battle. Without thinking, she began to run towards the source, not realizing the limitations of her current state. 

Rounding a corner, she knew exactly where she was. The looming form of the Hyperion stood before her, surrounded by police cruisers and spotlighted by helicopters. The chatter of gunfire could be heard from inside. The dark Slayer knew something was wrong, seriously wrong. This kind of encounter always brought the police coming in swarms, but there were barely a handful of cruisers here. Moving between two of them, she realized that the police cars themselves looked like they had been through a war zone. Hastily welded steel reforcing over them was pock marked by bullet holes, burn marks and cracked glass. And, even stranger, there were no cops around. 

The sound of a voice from the inside of a cruiser grabbed her attention. She ran to it, but stopped short at what she saw. The voice had come from a radio inside the car. A radio which was being held by what looked to have, until recently, been a LAPD officer. An officer who looked like he had been fed face first into a mulcher and pulled out when it got to his waist. 

The sound of bullets richochetting near her jarred Faith from her shock and into motion towards the shattered doors of the Hyperion. 

The scene which confronted her chilled her to the core of her soul. The once spotless and tasteful lobby had been redecorated in carnage. Scattered like ragdolls, she saw the perforated remains of Wesley, Gunn and some other girl. It seemed as if they had come running out of the office when they had been stopped cold by a fulisade of weapons fire. To the right, near and on the stairs leading upwards, were the remains of the team which was normally led by Liv O'Shanaussee, the other Slayer. Faith shook her head as recognized Reginald Sinclair, her current liason with the Watchers. 

More gunfire ripped through the hotel, this time from beneath her. The basement. Faith raced for the stairwell, bouncing off the wall as she took the turn midway. As she stepped of the final step, she say Liv standing before her, arms and hands outstretched as she chanted. From each palm flowed a streamer of flame, which was being whipped around the room in search of some unseem foe. Crouched behind the flame throwing Slayer was Angel. His face was ashen as he cradled Cordelia, her shirt drenched with blood. 

Faith tried to move towards them, but one of the streamers of flame flowed over and around her and suddenly she was standing outside of an ancient castle, which was burning with almost maniacal intenisity. 

It took her a second to take this in, as she was a bit disoriented from all she had to take in, not to mention the sudden shifting. 'Oh shit,' she whispered as she realized the castle which was burning before her was in fact Waddesdon Keep, the main headquarters for the Council of Watchers. 

She looked up and saw illuminated by the flames consuming the centuries old complex someone had left a message on the parapet over top the gate. But before she could be positive of what she was afraid she saw, a wall of flame lashed out of the castle and she was in New York once more.

Her ears picked up the sound of a voice and she ran towards it. Turning a corner, she skidded to a stop. The voice had been Spike's and even now he was screaming obscenities at someone in the shadows. But it was the situation which lay before her that stopped her movement cold. 

Children. A dozen or more, all laying like broken puppets, scattered around Spike on the ground. And Spike himself was on his back, his head lifted as he was yelling at someone Faith couldn't see. 

"You bloody animal! They were kids!" Spike snarled as he tugged on his arms. Faith could now see that he was stuck to the ground, or more appropriately, stuck into the ground. Wisps of smoke rose from the stakes which were driven through his arms and legs into the concrete.

"They would grow into my enemies," came the reply, the voice empty of anything resembling humanity. "Much easier to eliminate them now than wait till they can cause more evil to be spread upon the earth."

"They were children you bastard! Human children! They weren't evil, they were kids you bloody wanker!" Spike struggled against the stakes that held him captive. "I'm going to tear your heart out and shove it down your throat!"

"You going to that that in the next three seconds?" asked the speaker as he pointed at the horizon from the shadows. 

The sun lifted itself over the land, coloring the smokey sky with the first rays of light. "I'll see you in hell, you bastard!" Even before the last word had left his mouth, Spike began to smoke, then burst into flame.

"Maybe so," said the figure in the shadows. "But, soul or not, you'll be there first" The voice was hauntingly familiar, but seemed like a pale shadow of what it had once been. It was as if all the human qualities had been ripped from it, leaving only a dark revenant behind.

Faith's mouth was dry as she watched Spike burned.. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the tableau which was before her. But she couldn't shut her ears. When the sound of the crackling flames abruptly cut off, and she felt the cool moist air against her face, she was relieved.

Until she opened her eyes, and found herself in a graveyard she had stood in before in Sunnydale, years before. The sight which assailed her drove her to her knees. 

Tears filled her eyes as she stared at the name on the tombstone before her. The fire in the sky causes the shadows to ripple across its face, the name seeming to change with each flicker of darkness until finally settling on the one name she hoped to not see, 'Dawn Summers'. Suddenly the fire illuminates a metal spike which had been hammered into the granite, and driven onto the top of the spike, staring out with terror filled unseeing eyes, was her own severed head.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** 

Faith's eyes weren't even fully open as she rolled out of the sweat soaked bed. Her stomach was rolling about like a rabid beast, threatening to void itself of the pizza she had eated before falling asleep. After a moment of collecting herself and performing a few repetitions of a breathing exercise she had learned during her martial arts training, Faith felt that she would be able to at least walk around without tossing her cookies. 

Perched on the edge of the bed, she hit the first speed dial on her cell phone. As the call went through, she fitted the headset in place, getting the mic adjusted just as the call was answered. 

"British Museum of" 

Faith didn't even let the receptionist finish her introduction before she cut her off. "Reggie Sinclair. Now. And if you don't put me through to him, right this second, you're going to find out what an irritated Slayer is capable of doing."

After a single stutter, the lady informed Faith that she was connecting her now. 

Two rings later, Sinclair picked up. "Hang on, I've got to take this.. Hello?"

"Reggie!" A sigh of relief crossed the phone lines as Faith heard the voice of her liason.

"Faith? You sound upset. Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, I think so," she replied as she got up to pace around the room. "Look, I I had a dream."

Reginald was all business with those words. "A prophetic dream?"

"Maybe, or it could have just been a nightmare, but I'm betting on prophetic."

"Was this the first time you've had this particular dream? Can you remember it?"

"Oh, I can remember it. The problem is that I don't want to remember it. And yeah, it was the first time for this one."

"Did it manifest as an extension of one of the other dreams you've had, or was this one a stand alone? What was it about?"

"Before I say anything else, I need to know something Where are you right now? And where's the Brat Pack?"

"Currently I am New Orleans, enjoying myself as opposed to being here on Council business. And as of this morning, the Brat Pack is back home in Montana, I believe. Why? Is there something amiss?"

"Look, this dream was I don't know, weird. There was some shit in there from my past and some stuff that I don't know quite what it means," she lied smoothly. "I'm on it, but there's some stuff I need you to take care of for me."

"Are you sure you don't need any assistence on this, Faith?"

"Reggie! Damn it, listen to me." Faith snapped at him, then took a breath. "Look, this dream just has me on edge. I'm dealing with it, on my own."

"Faith, I understand that you want to do this yourself, and as much as I want to ask exactly what is going on, I won't. For now. But I do need to ask you if this problem is going to pose a risk for anyone else."

The Slayer sighed. "No Reggie, not if you listen to me and do what I ask you. First, I don't want you or the Brat Pack anywhere near LA, until I say otherwise. Unless its end of the world time, stay the hell out of Los Angles. Second, I'm off the clock for a while. And before you ask, no I don't know how long. Probably a couple weeks at least. I've got some ghosts I have to face, in order to keep some serious shit from hitting the fan." She paused, not sure of what to say next. "Look, I've got to deal with this. I'm asking you to trust me on this. It's not something the Council needs to worry about. I'll deal with it and when I'm done, I'll be in touch."

"Ok Faith." His concern could be felt across the country. "I'll pass the word and do as you ask. Now, not as your watcher, nor as anything but a friend, are you ok?"

"I think so, Reggie. It's just that some things came up out here out of nowhere that I thought were dead and buried. I don't want anybody else involved in this. I'm not real sure whats going to happen, but I don't want anybody else in the crossfire if things go bad."

Faith could tell he wanted to ask her more, but after a moment, he simply said that he'd cover for her and if she needed anything, he'd stay in the US until he heard from her one way or the other. Faith chuckled. "You know, if you got a satellite phone then I wouldn't have to call England to find out where you are and what cell number to try."

"Stop getting your doors kicked in and maybe I could pry one out of accounting." He paused. "Just be careful, ok Faith."

"I will. After all, I wouldn't want to pass these damn dreams on to Liv, now would I?" And with that she disconnected.

"Ok, that was the easy one." Her fingers danced over the numbers on the keypad. This was a number that wasn't stored in her phone, because is changed twice a month and frankly, she didn't want to run the risk of anybody getting it if her phone got into the wrong hands. 

The call was answered after three rings, and immediately the sound of a crowded room could be heard over the connection. "Before you say anything, I'm at a party and I can't get to someplace with fewer people so we can talk in private." 

Faith translated in her head, 'This isn't a secure line and I can't get to one. Don't say anything that needs to stay secret' "Hey, sis, its me. I just got to the bed and breakfast I am staying at for my vacation."

"Yeah, what was the name of the place, again?" 'Where the hell are you?'

"Powhatan Point. It's a real small town, but I thought some of the local color was interesting enough to check out. If you want to take a vacation sometime, its in eastern Ohio, only about eight hours from New York. The place I'm staying is on Sycamore Street. You know this place doesn't have any real hotels, and this is the only bed and breakfast in town? Reminds me of something out of the past, like a forgotten time or something." 

"Sounds interesting. Anything nitelife to speak of?" 'Vamps or demons?'  
  
"Nothing at all. Its like Mayberry or something. But there are some really interesting people here. This one guy in particular I think you might like him. Too bad you can't get here while I'm in town. I'd like to introduce you to him."

"Sorry, sis. But I've already booked this week. I've even got an appointment in the morning with a real mover and shaker in the local scene. I've got to be out the door before the sun comes up." 'I can be on road by morning.'

"Well, make sure not to take too much. Better to be light on your feet. Anyway, I'll let you go. Gonna try and get back to sleep. Had some weird dreams earlier."

"That's too bad. You'll have to tell me about them sometime." 'When we get together, you better give me the run down.'

"Ok, well you take care sis. Hope we can get together soon."

"You too Love you and see you soon."

And Faith hung up, shedding her headset at the same time. 'One way or the other,' she thought as she reached for her katana and sharpening stone. 'I'm going to keep that dream from coming true."

End Chapter 9  
  
Well, what did you think? Opinions are greatly appreciated and requested.. Please feed my Muse so she'll keep happy and it won't take months before Chapter 10 is ready.


	11. Chapter Ten

Disclaimer: I downloaded the characters from Napster to see if I like them. I'm going to buy the cd... Really....

Fallen from Grace  
Chapter Ten  
By IceWing (icewing@one.net)  


The Dark Slayer knocked softly at the door. Tilting her head slightly, she listened for any sound that would indicate that Xander was on the other side. After a few moments of silence, she knocked again.

"I heard you the first time," came his voice, a hint of something, sadness perhaps, evident in the words, as he spoke from the other side of the door.

"So are you going to open the door so I can talk to you."

"I can hear you just fine Faith. I don't have anything to say to you." A whisper of a sigh made it through the door to Faith's ears. "You're not going to just leave me alone, are you?"

From her position on the porch, Faith could hear the barely masked pain in his voice. She had to be careful. Pushing too much right now could have the completely wrong effect, driving him back into the darkness which so much of him wanted to hide in. Faith knew all to well how that could happen. Looking back, she realized just how close Xander and Angel had been to pulling her back from the darkness when things had gone south. She wouldn't fail Xander, not when he had literally risked his neck to try and save her. She could do no less. "I can't leave Xan. Not when I can help you."

"Don't you get it Faith?" She could hear his voice trembling. "You can't help me. Nobody can. I'm so far from the light that I can't even remember what its like anymore."

"I don't believe that, not for a second. I made it back from the darkness. So did Angel, and he had a lot more working against him that either of us. You're not weaker than DeadBoy, are you?" It was a gamble, and she knew it, but maybe she could use some of their past to show that the road she wanted to help him along wasn't as impossible as he thought it to be.

Seconds of silence passed. Nervously, Faith asked if he was still there. A heartbeat passed before the answer was given that he was, but he just couldn't do this right now. 

Part of her wanted to stay, to help him fight his way back towards the light, but deep down Faith knew that all she could do was be there for him, as he had tried to be there for her so many years ago. But no matter how much she wanted him to beat the demons that lived in his heart and mind, it was a battle that only Xander could accept, and that only he could win.

"Ok Xan. I'm going to head back into town. If you need me, I'm staying at the bed and breakfast on Sycamore. I'll be back tomorrow though. If you want to talk then, I'll listen." She turned to walk away, but paused. "I've missed you." 

And with that, she walked over to the Mach One and slid inside. She knew that this was a task that would take a long time to help him overcome. But Xander was one of the few people she considered family. And she didn't run out on family. She'd learnt that lesson at great cost. 

She'd be there for him, every step of the way. A faint smile crossed her lips as she started the massive engine. It was a difficult road ahead of Xander, but that's what family was for. 

Besides, she wasn't the only family he had left.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** 

Faith stared at the heavy oak door which stood before her. Her eyes drifted to the right, and a faint smile crossed her face before she reached out and knocked three times on the aged wood. From within, her enhanced hearing picked up the sound of somebody approaching the door. 

"Faith. Please. Just leave me alone." It didn't take a Slayer to hear the tiredness, the emotional exhaustion that filled the voice on the other side of the door. "Go back to where ever you live these days and please just forget you knew me. I won't bother you, or any other good guys…" 

The once fallen Slayer took note that he didn't seem to be including himself as a white hat anymore, a sure sign that at least part of him knew what he was in danger of becoming. "Xander, please. I just want to talk to you." Faith sighed. "You tried to save me all those years ago. You wanted to help me, talk to me when things were rough… I pushed you away and look where it ended up… You don't want to be where I was. Open the door and talk to me."

Nothing happened for the span of several heartbeats, then there was the sound of locks being thrown open. It was like music to her ears. The door swung open and Xander stood there, glaring at her. "Any chance that now that I've given you something you want, that you'll just leave?"

"Not a chance in hell." Faith stood defiantly. "Look Xander."

"Would you mind not calling me that?" he interrupted, but even to him, it sounded kind of weak. 

"It's your name, what your friends call you. You remember friends, don't you?" As soon as she snapped out the words, Faith knew it wasn't the best thing to say. She was trying to get him out of the past, not remind him of the horrors that happened back then… 

His next words were far colder than he sounded when he first opened the door. "Yeah Faith. I remember friends. Friends who shut you out. Friends who run away or abandon you for making mistakes. Friends who ignore everything you do to help. Yeah, friends. I remember them."

"That was really the wrong thing for me to say. I'm sorry, Xander. And you're right, we did screw up, everyone screwed up. I did, you did, B did, everyone fucked up. We all screw up sometimes Xander. We all get hurt sometimes. Some deserve it, some don't. I got my own knife shoved in me and fell off a roof. But I deserved that, that and more. Whatever happened to you, Xander, you didn't deserve. But all your doing by pushing me away is hurting yourself more. Don't let the bad things outweigh the good... Life chews you up, spits you out and leaves you scarred and broken. Sometimes you just have to pick yourself up and push on, no matter how bad your hurt. No matter how fucked up your problems are."

"Yeah, life leaves some nasty scars doesn't it faith?' he snarled as he pulled the long sleeved t-shirt off and threw it at her... 'but somehow I think that mine are a tad worse than yours...' Faith gasped at what she saw...

All across Xander's torso and upper arms were scars… Criss crossing each other, it was obvious that he had been subjected to injuries that few survive, healed, then subjected to them again and again. Faith could pick out the pucker like scars of bullet wounds, the long thin indicators of slashing injuries, dozens of bite marks, and that was just on his front… As he turned around, to give her a view of his back, Faith was chilled to her core… His back was a solid mass of scars. She recognized the patterns, although had only seen them in person a few times… Whip marks… Layer upon layer of them, scarred over with time. Her eyes started to tear up as she imagined what hell's Xander had been subjected to in order to leave his body looking like it did… The fact he was still standing before her was a silent testament to just how strong the Zeppo truly was.

Faith watched as Xander slid the shirt back over his mangled body. She wanted to ask him, beg to find out what had happened that had almost killed him. But things were to tentative, so she stood there, waiting. 

After a moment, Xander began to speak… The words bursting forth like a levy that could no longer hold back the immense pressure welling up behind it.

** ** **

The underbrush tore at him as he was dragged away from the cruel tableau where the Slayerettes had fallen. His knee, wrenched during the fight, screamed in pain as the being dragging him pulled him further and further from safety with the clawed grip around his ankles. When his head hit the rock, darkness was a blessed sanctuary from the pain.

Wakefulness brought no escape from the darkness. Panicking, he felt around him, hoping that he hadn't lost his vision. Shaking hands confirmed that his eyes were still there, and a moment later, they found the walls, which penned him in. Shifting his back to the wall that was behind him, Xander frantically felt along the walls. Within seconds, he realized he was in a space, a cell, which was just big enough for him to lay down in, one direction only, and not even as wide as his outstretched arms. Nervously, he checked his neck and to his horror, found a seeping wound on the side. "Right where vamps like it.." he whispered in horror.

In a heartbeat, all the pain was gone and he was on his feet, feeling the walls, trying to punch his way out when he found no method to open the cell from the inside. "Let me out of here, you bastards!" he yelled, his voice harsh with rage and anger.

The response surprised him. "Shhhhh! Quiet or you'll get punished. You'll get us all punished." The voice was so quiet, as it passed through the wooden wall to his right, that Xander couldn't even tell if it was a male or female speaking.

"What do you mean? Where are we?"

"Just be quiet. Its better that way." A pause, before the voice added, "It hurts less…"

Xander asked, a little more quietly what was going on, but the voice was silent.

In the darkness, he had no way to know how much time passed. All he knew what that his mouth was dry and he needed to use the bathroom. 

Light blinded him as the door was jerked open. "Ok you blood bags out and line up!" yelled a harsh voice. When he didn't move, a scaled figure stepped into the light and grabbed Xander by the front of his shirt. With a solid heave, he tossed him free of the cell and against the far wall. "Maybe you're too dumb to listen. I said out of your cell and line up."

Xander started to open his mouth, but pain blossom across his back before he could let loose with a smart ass comment. After ten lashes, the back of his shirt was in shreds and it felt as if his back was ablaze. "Now you get your ass up and follow the rest of the meat or you get more of the same."

Dazed, Xander trudged fell in line with the other two dozen humans and moved along with a single thought running through his head…'Buffy, where are you?'

After being handed a half gallon of orange juice and an apple, Xander was separated from the rest of the prisoners. He was pushed onto a crate by one of the vampires and told to sit there and shut up. A moment later, that vamp was replaced by another. 

Xander looked around at the room. Nothing he could use to stake the vamp and get the hell out of here. Buffy might be able to break a packing crate into stake sized pieces, but he was pretty sure that in his current state there was no way in hell he would be able to. 

The vamp watched him and after Xander was done scoping out the room, spoke up. "Won't do you any good. Even if you dusted me, there's a dozen vamps in the building. And all the doors are locked."

Xander looked at the vampire with disgust on his face. "Don't suppose I really trust a bloodsucker like you, do you?"

"No, but I know you. You hang with the Slayer. I can see in your eyes you want to kill all of us."

"You're already dead. I'd just be putting a corpse down," came the cold response.

"Mighty tough talk for a guy who's trapped in a bloodhouse with no weapons, no way out and is hurt to boot. You got balls though." 

"Buffy's gonna take this place apart. You know that right?"

"The Slayer isn't a problem. She hasn't found this place since she moved here, and our clientele don't talk about this place, so I really doubt it. Plus, she looked pretty hurt from what the guys that brought you in said."

Xander swallowed. He knew he'd never heard of anyplace like this in town. There was the place that Riley had visited, but those people paid to get bit. Kinda a kinky consensual thing. And since he sure as hell didn't want to be here, this was a very different kind of place. "You know the Slayer. You let me go, and I'll put in a good word for you."

"Sorry kid. I'll take my chances, but I will tell you some things, just in case she does show up, I can say I tried to help you. First. Keep quiet. Noisy humans don't always come back. Second, there are worse things than being a bloodbag. Troublemaking humans don't last long. Third. If you do manage to get a stake, and you stake somebody, you'll be an object lesson. The last one took about three weeks to die."

Xander looked at him and didn't know whether to laugh, cry or have a breakdown. 'Buffy will save me,' he kept repeating to himself as the door opened, and he saw the trays of needles and the red hot coals and irons in a brazier in the corner of the room. 'Preferably within the next ten seconds…'

** ** ** ** **

The brands on his left shoulder and right shoulder blade had healed, leaving scars that indicated his blood type. The scars on his body had multiplied as weeks then months passed, leaving permanent reminders of each vampire who had fed on him, draining away his life blood to sustain their own demonic existence. 

His life had become an endless cycle. Every morning orange juice and fruit. Protein drinks for lunch and dinner. Once in a great while some watery soup for dinner. Twice a week he got to walk around in the courtyard. Always during the day. The blood splatter on the wall made sure he never tried to use the sunlight to avoid returning indoors. The keepers had no intention of letting their cattle deteriorate too much. No value in them if their blood was weak. 

What sickened Xander was how he was almost looking forward to the twice a week feeding times. At first, he had hoped that maybe the vamps that had fed on him would run across Buffy and she'd beat his location out of them… Somewhere after about 50 bites, Xander started to realize that Buffy wasn't coming for him. That nobody was going to rescue him. 

That hit him harder than the guards did when he tried to escape. It had been a month before he could breath without pain from the broken ribs. He still occasionally compared the pain of that beating to the pain of realizing that Buffy was probably dead. Otherwise she would have found him.

At least, that's what he kept trying to convince himself of. Part of his mind, a voice that had been getting louder of late said instead that Buffy was a fighter, he was a victim. That it was time he realized that and admitted his fate to himself. The rest of the world had already written Xander Harris off. 

It wasn't long after that the owner of the blood bank noticed that the eldest type O negative was losing weight, even though he was getting the same amount as he had for the rest of the 8 months he had been a 'donor'. With a shrug, the demon made a note to start his teams looking for another replacement. Sooner or later, all the bloodbags gave up. He'd actually been surprised how long this one had lasted. 

** ** ** ** 

The being who only occasionally thought of itself as Xander shielded his eyes as the door to his cell opened up. It was to early for dinner, and variation from routine was never good. "Get out here." 

Quickly, Xander scooted out and lay on the floor, unsure of what was going on. 

"Looks like you get to go on a trip. You've been traded."

Before he could really comprehend what was going on, Xander was cuffed and had a burlap sack tossed over his head, then was dumped in the back of a van. Cowering in the corner, he heard the vamp guard say that he hoped he'd be of more use in the ring… All that scar tissue was making him hard to drink from any more….

** ** ** **

The sound of the door being unlocked sent the unwilling residents of the barracks darting for cover. It wasn't time for the pre-fight prep work, not by a couple of days. That meant that either the Khan had decided on some unscheduled entertainment, the guards were bored and wanted to take on one of the fighters, or that there were newbies inbound. Of the three possibilities, the last was actually the worst, because it meant there would be more people to mourn when they met their inevitable demise. 

One of the uglier guards, who looked like a cross between a wild boar, a Klingon and week old road kill, tossed Xander from his shoulder onto the ground. The young man landed heavily in front of the only human in the room who was standing up to the demon horde who were dragging in the fresh meat. "The Khan has entered you into the upcoming pairs tournament. This wasted blood bag has been decreed to be your battle mate, till one or both of you have the sense to die for our entertainment. Next time maybe you'll keep your mouth shut bitch!"

The woman stood, unmoving and unfazed by the demon's words, or more noticeably, by the odor that it gave off. She spoke with a calm, yet powerful voice. "Now that you've finished polluting our air with your stench, you can put the rookies down and get the hell out of our quarters. Try not to drool on anything on the way out."

PigBoy bristled at the insult, moving to attack. Before he could carry through, one of the other, more intelligent guards, a vampire, put a gloved hand on his shoulder. "You remember what happened to Jnorgelag when it attacked one of the prisoners outside the ring? She ain't worth it."

"You're lucky this time, human. I can't wait to see you dragged down and split wide open in the ring. The boss didn't even want to waste the money on a live one for you to die beside." With that, the guard kicked Xander hard in the side. On the ground, the one time Slayerette just took it, not even bothering to scream at the pain. It was nothing compared to what he had been through. As a second kick was imminent, the smart guard once again stopped PigBoy. 

Yanking him back from Xander's prone form, the vampire began to speak softly and quickly, pointing at Xander once or twice during the short diatribe. The woman managed to pick up part of the conversation, despite the hushed tone. The words Slayer, Scourge of Europe and Ascension stuck the most. Words that she would have to learn more about later. 

The brash guard looked down at Xander, curled up on the floor in disbelief. He mutters under his breath that he doubted it, this bloodbag doesn't look like it could stand up to a harsh breeze. But regardless, he stepped back without administering another kick. "I'll enjoy counting my winnings when I put my money on your death bitch!" Satisfied that he had at least made some effort to save face, the lead guard turned and stalked away.

Moments later, the demons and vampires left, making sure to lock both the gate and the solid door behind them. As the sounds of the locks faded, the occupants of the barracks like cell moved toward the new arrivals. 

The woman stood there for a moment, the other humans and a few demons, gathered around her. "Ok people, we've got some new folks to help get settled in. Find out what you can about them, explain the situation like usual. Smitty and Jackson, you see what you can find out about skills. Sounds like we don't got long to get everybody ready before the next fight. Get to work!"

With that command, the gathering broke into small groups, tending to the needs of the new arrivals. Offering what support and comfort they could. 

As she knelt beside Xander, she saw that the back of his shirt was glued to his back with dried blood. Carefully she reached out, meaning to try and gently lift the shirt up so she could note the extent of the wounds beneath. When her fingers touched him, she saw his flinch back, as if the mere contact was painful to him.

'Ok,' she thought. 'Let's try a different approach.' "The scum that run this place call me the Queen of Death. The Demon fighters call me the Queen, out of respect of my abilities. Most of the humans call me Vasquez or Captain. Why don't you call me Michelle."

Xander slowly rolled over and, after a couple of shaky attempts, regained his feet. "Hi Michelle. Any chance you could do me the favor of snapping my neck. I'd slit my wrists, but I seem to have lost anything sharp or pointy during my tour of the hells of the Hellmouth." The sheer emptiness of emotion in that sentence would have scared anyone who had known Xander. The joke was hollow, but the desire to check out of the world wasn't.

Whereas Xander's statement was lacking in emotion, the Queen's was not. Her hand struck like a viper, hitting his face with an opened handed, full force slap that knocked his head to the right. "Death like that is a coward's way out." Her hand came back across in a savage backhand which split his lip, spraying blood. "From how those demon's reacted, you didn't use to be a coward. What happened to change that, boy?" she sneered. Inwardly, she hoped that this wouldn't backfire on her. From her years as a cop, and a counselor while in college, she knew that the only way she was going to get a response out of him was to get him mad. If he didn't then the quick death in the ring would merely be punctuation, finishing off somebody who was already dead inside. "You made it through Ascension." she wondered what the hell that was anyway. Sounded big. "The Scourge of Europe." Sounded bigger. Another savage slap rocked his head. "And now you want me to finish you off like an animal to slaughter?"

Before the backhand she was winding up for could land, Michelle Vasquez found herself on the floor on her ass. "You sucker punched me!" She hadn't even seen it coming either. A bit weak, but considering the shape the kid was in, not to mention that he was on the rocks mentally and emotionally, it was a start."

"Damn fucking right I did!" he snarled. Anger fuelling him for the first time in months. "I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but only two women in the world can hit me like that and get away with it. They're both Slayers. You aren't. Hit me again and I'll break your arm. You may be hot shit around here, but I'm from SunnyDale. I've fought tougher things than you on the way to school. And more demons than I want to think about while AT school."

Xander looked around, seeing for the first time where he was. "And where the hell am I anyway….."

"Well, at least there's something in there that's not dead." She wiped the blood from her own split lip and then gets to her feet. "Let's get some food in you, and you can tell me how you ended up in a hell hole like this. And then you can tell me about SunnyDale. And what the hell is a Slayer."

** ** ** ** ** ** ** **  
"Ladies and Gentlemen. Humans and Denizens of the Outer Planes. Welcome to the Pacific Northwest Regional Combat Championships. You've all been waiting for the big show, well this is it. The Grand Championship Final Round!" In the background, techno music began to play over the arena's hidden sound system while the MC's image was projected onto the big screens situated around the ring. "First, the rules. As this is the Finals, the Climax of the Tournament, we've gone from surrender or first blood… To the Death!!!" 

The crowd went wild. Two thousand years of human history had not made a dent the removing the bloodlust that, if anything, seemed more intense than that seen at the height of the gladiatorial fights in the roman coliseum. 

"You've watched them fight their way up from the opening rounds, through luck and skill. It's their first year in the League, and they hope it's not their last! Give it up for Furious and Saturn!" The crowd cheered and booed, hollered and hooted, as the two fighters approached from the side entrances to the arena. Almost as one, they walked up the steep steps to the squared circle, where they stood, facing each other, more than a bit nervous as the crowd's energy lashed in at them.

The music changed as the lights dimmed. The orchestra sounds of the Imperial March from John Williams filled the packed auditorium. A hush fell over the crowd. "And, for the first time in the Paired Fighters Tournament. You've watched her for years as she's fought her way clear of demon hordes, human wave attacks and against the most skilled fighters of the realm." The spotlights flashed on, illuminating an arched entry way which was draped in smoke and shadows. "Ladies and Gentlemen, The Queen of Death!" 

From the archway, four burley men, dressed in what could only be described as a Dominatrix's dream attire for her male slaves, came four burley men, carrying on their shoulders a fanciful palanquin. Seated on its cushioned throne, draped in a deep blue velvet cloak, sat Michelle Vasquez, known only as the Queen of Death to the assembled audience. Her steel circlet crown glittered in the spotlight, the ruby's and onyx set in it, shining like both blood and the darkness of the Abyss. The four lumbering giants slowly advanced down the aisle, bearing her on high like the queen she was to the crowd. A crowd that was completely enthralled with her. A reverent hush fell over the crowd as a member of Death's entourage was brought before them. Several heartbeats passed, in which even the music seemed muted, before a slow, rhythmic chant began chanting for the Queen.

Behind the queen and her bearers entered another figure. In its hand, it held the lead for a massive charger, a war horse several centuries out of time. 

"This things going to throw me off and break my neck!" Xander cursed under his breath as the moved down the ramp from the archway, towards the raised ring. 

Even as the charger's massive hooves sparked against the floor, the MC continued. "And, for the first time, your Queen is attended by one of her sworn warriors. A knight, skilled in the deadly arts, a loyal fighter whose loyalty shall be rewarded… By the blood of his opponents!"

As the announcer was continuing his monologue, the demon holding the reins brought the horse to a stop within a couple of feet of the side of the ring. "Dismount, huu-man," hissed the creature.

Xander did so, quite happy to be free of the horse. Damn things were scarier than most demons, and right up there with Snyder. Remembering his cues for the performance, he stepped to the side of the palanquin and offered his hand. 

Vasquez took it and stepped down from the platform. She nodded as Xander bowed to her, then waited as he took his place behind her right side. Together, they then stepped up into the combat area and moved to the center, where the spotlights focused on them.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the Queen of Death and her loyal Knight!"

As the MC spoke the last word, Vasquez turned slightly as Xander removed the cape which had covered her, adding a theatrical flourish to the act.

The crowd gasped as they saw her outfit for the evening. It looked as if the costuming department had stolen one of Boris Vallejo's concept sketch books and fabricated the fantasy from his pages in steel and leather. The base medium for the deadly attire was a skin tight leather bodysuit, which looked like it had been painted on. The one inch heels brought her within an inch or so of Xander's height, so the two looked like a properly matched set, although his leather fatigues looked like cast off rags compared to her outfit, which looked as if had been custom tailored by an evil Armani. On the front of her boots, ran three razored shards of steel. The deadly accessories matched the ones on her bracers and on her shoulders, all of the edges glittering in the spotlight. The leather skirt, similar to what would be seen on the armor of a Roman Centurion was studded with silvered steel studs, the color matched to the hammered steel bustier which covered her breasts and upper portion of her stomach.

The crowd got even louder, as the sexual allure of this battle maiden mixed with the bloodlust they were feeling. 

Xander and Michelle stepped back, and Xander bowed to his Queen. That done, they took to their corners, so each cardinal point of the circle squared was filled.

The four combatants reached out of the ring, and almost as one, took the hilts of their weapons, and in Xander and Furious's case, their shield as well. Each gently adjusted their grips as they turned back around. Soon the wrapped leather grips of the weapons would be soaked in sweat and blood. 

"Fighters! Salute the ring Master! And your opponents!"

As soon as the ritual was complete, Xander turned to the crowd, while the other warriors stood there, adjusting their grips on the weapons they help. "Mortitori te salutamus!" He banged his shield with his sword one, yelling HooAhh! as he did so. The crowd, already on their feet, went even wilder.

"What the hell was that all about?" asked Vasquez as she took her ready position, her rapier in an en garde position.

"Old Roman custom. Means, we who are about to die, salute you. Thought maybe a bit of historical irony might keep my ass alive….That and I've been praying to every deity I've ever read about, and that's a lot!" Before he could say anymore, the MC implored that the spirits of Grishnaak, watch over the warriors and feast on the departing souls of the losers.

Then the bell rung and the arena was filled with the sounds of steel and death.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** **  
The battle was long over. The crowds had departed, breaking up to return to their safe, comfortable lives. The crew had mopped the blood from the arena and the armorer's had cleaned the blood from the blades. 

But as she looked down at the form she held tightly in her arms, Michelle Vasquez wondered who would clean the blood from the soul of the young man who had cried himself to sleep in her arms, quaking with raw emotions as he tried to grapple with what he had become as he stood in front of hundreds of cheering people. As he had been blooded, as he had spilt the life's blood of another human. 

The fog was thick around him, rolling in like a bad special effect. Xander pulled his collar up to try and ward off the cold, but the chill wasn't from the air, but from his very soul.

A shape emerged from the mist in front of him. He tried to backpedal, knowing that whatever was coming for him was of the 'not something you want to meet' category. Then, standing before him, was the man he had struck down in the Championship match. The man's white shirt was stained red with his life blood, dripping down the front and falling to the floor. "You killed me, boy. I had a wife, and three children. I won't get to see my girls grow up and marry, or watch my boy graduate from college. All because you ran a sword through my heart! No matter how much you try, my blood will never wash clean of your soul." With that he walked into Xander, and vanished. 

Even as the form of his victim walked away, a new person stepped into the diffuse light of his nightmare. As he looked upon her, his oldest friend, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her hair. The normal color was even darker… As he watcher her approach, he saw blood dripping from her hair.

But as disturbing as the visual image was, the tone of her voice when she spoke was worse. "You're no better than that bitch who betrayed us. You murdered a man, spilt his blood as he lay there begging for you to spare him. You make me sick." She looked at him and spat in his face. She turned and walked away, never even letting him speak as her spittle rolled down his face like a tear.

He tried to speak as she vanished into the darkness. A voice from behind startled him. "I don't blame her, you know." Xander spun around, coming face to face with Buffy. "Frankly, I don't know why I'm even here… I mean, you're… I can't believe I almost trusted a killer like you to watch and protect Dawn."

The sheer disgust with which she said it struck him to the bone. "But…You chose Spike! I mean, come on Buffy, the guy got his name from his torture implement of choice!"

"You're right. But you know what, at least he has an excuse, the demon was in charge. You, you have a soul. And you chose to murder that man. You looked him in the eye, killed him as he begged, and then you were rewarded for it. You're far worse than any vampire I took down. I feel dirty even talking to you. You best stay away from us from now on Xander. We don't want to have a murderer like you in our group."

"Oh, Bravo!" said another voice to his right. Xander quickly looked over and saw Spike standing there. He looked back to Buffy, but she was gone.

"What the hell are you doing here Spike? I didn't invite you!"

"That's for buildings, you wanker. This is your mind, pretty much anybody can come waltzing on in if they want." The bleach blonde vampire took a drag from his cigarette before continuing. "Of course, not to many people are bored enough to want too wander into this cesspool."

"So why are you here then?"

"Just wanted to come by and let you know that I was watching earlier today. Liked what I saw. I tell you, I never thought you had it in you, but you killed that putz like you were born to it. You've got a lot more potential than I gave you credit for, Droopy! You ever want some pointers, look me up. Mind you, I might kill you, but then again, maybe not… After all, it'd be good to have a protégé who's more evil than I am. Good for my reputation. See you around, wanker."

Xander looked like he was about to be sick. One of the most vicious vampires he'd ever had the misfortune of meeting had just praised him. He looked around the darkness, trying to find a way out, any way to escape from this nightmarish realm.

Suddenly, standing there in the gloom, was Faith, leaning against, well nothing. 

"What?" he asked in a combination of exasperation and panic. "You here to compliment me, be disgusted by me or kill me?"

Faith just stood there, looking at him with a sad half smile on her face. "None of the above Xan-man. Just going to welcome you to the club, and say I'm sorry." 

And with that, he woke up, finding himself in a worse place than he had been a heartbeat ago.

Alone.  


** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

The training bag swung back to the limits of its ropes as it was beaten within an fraction of the capabilities of the aged leather. Still she hammered away at it, lashing out with punches, strikes, kicks and jabs. Small strips of duct tape worked their way loose from the patches which had been placed on it over the years, falling to the ground like tears.

From behind her, a voice spoke. "You know, I bet that bag will never make an unwanted pass at you again… Just remember, the rest of us like to hurt it too…"

Chuckling, the Queen turned to her Knight. "You can be such an ass, you know that?"

"Years of dedication to my art. That and I've seen that look before… Usually ended up causing a lot of pain."

"Yeah. Like I'm going to hurt myself on the bag."

"Actually I meant me. Back home, about every time I saw that look, usually meant I was about get pummeled on. Then again," he said with a laugh. "That's what I get for volunteering to be a practice dummy in the training room…" He took her hands and started to unwrap the tape from them. "So, what demons, metaphorically speaking," he said as he glanced over at PigBoy. "What demons are you beating the hell out of today?"

"Just trying to relieve some tension. Kinda hating this place more than normal today…"

"And what possible way could there be to detest the fine resort accommodations which we find ourselves frequenting?"

"Oh, try today's the four year anniversary of my ending up in the darkness, since the SWAT team I was leading walked into a shit storm. Damn demonic drug lords. I watched half my men torn to bits as they emptied round after round into those monsters… And my little girl's birthday is next week." Michelle looked at Xander. "She'll be sixteen on the ninth. Four birthdays I've missed. I've been stuck here fighting for these assholes, and the idiot mob, and I've missed my little girl growing up…. I don't know if she's doing well in school, or who her friends are. Whether she still wants to follow either me onto the force or her dad into the Corps. Or if she's even alive anymore."

For the first time since he'd met her, Xander watched as Michelle's eyes filled with tears. Not even thinking, he took her in his arms, and just held her as she cried. 

Neither of them spoke or moved for what seemed an eternity. They just shared strength, both physical and emotional. 

After a time, Michelle broke away. "Thanks Harris," she said as she wiped her eyes with her shirt. "Sometimes this place just gets to me…"

"No worries… " He looked around the otherwise empty training room. "I'm pretty sure everybody's watching Braveheart again… Anything else I can do for you this evening? A little sparring? Maybe try and overthrow the guards? I'd offer a donut run, but I seem to have misplaced the local donut shop…"

"You know what… I could use something to get my mind off all this crap…" 

"Sorry, but I retired as a gigolo. Lousy tips."

Vasquez laughed. "You always manage to make me feel better Xander… But I want to forget about NYC, about everything about all this for a bit… How about you come clean and tell me about yourself. I mean, we've bleed for each other, but I have no idea how you ended up here…"

Xander looked at her, unsure on whether or not he should open up… If these secrets were his to tell… But if something happened to him, he at least wanted somebody to know. To remember and let the world know something about his friends. About the unsung heroes who saved the world time and time again, without a hint of recognition.

"Well, the fun stuff started my sophomore year of high school. I was careening out of control on my skateboard, when I saw this vision of blonde…."

** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

"Hey X, we managed to snag the Sunday paper. Want to take a glance?"

"Any good job openings? I'm getting a little bored with this whole fight to the death thing. Been thinking about a change. Bulletproof vest tester sounds relaxing."

Michelle grinned as she hit the heavy paper against his chest. "I don't know which are worse, your jokes or the guards' bad breath."

"You wound me, my lady… " He responded with a grin as he began to leaf through the paper. 

"I would, but as you're my partner and all… Wouldn't do to lessen my chances." The Queen snorted. "Anyway, with the following you're getting, they'd likely string me up, or at least give me a good talking to for messing with a star."

But even as she spoke, Xander no longer heard her words. His eyes had fallen on an article, under the fold of page one, or more accurately, the picture alongside it.

FIERY CRASH CLAIMS SUNNYDALE TEEN 

- Eagle Rock CA

It was just past one am when the club district was illuminated by a massive fireball as an out of control jeep slammed into the side of a Shell Gasoline Tanker. The vehicle, driven by Dawn Summers of SunnyDale, apparently lost control a short distance away from the truck.

No bystanders were injured in the blast, which blew out windows for close to a block. 

'LAPD forensic technicians noted deep gouges left in the metal by some kind of animal... It is theorized that the victim was attempting to flee a pack of wild dogs or perhaps a mountain lion when she lost control of her vehicle and slammed into the gasoline tanker. Blood on the interior of the vehicle as well as a glass trail leading down the block suggest that Ms. Summers may have been injured by the animals and attempted to flee. But, due to blood loss, they theorize she passed out and was unconscious at the moment of impact.

The intensity of the fire took three trucks from the 9th District to be able to contain. 

Police Officials do not suspect the involvement of alcohol.

This tragedy is not the first for the Summers family. Dawn's older sister, Buffy, has been missing for over two years now and her mother, Joyce, died of complications from a cancer surgery several years prior. Her father, Hank, has been in Europe for the past eight years, and has not returned for any of these tragedies. 

Memorial Service will be privately held by her friends, with any donations going to the Teen Outreach Center. 

Several minutes later Michelle noticed that, for only the second time since she had known him, her friend was crying. No matter what she did or said, he was unresponsive, until he finally cried himself to sleep.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

A knock at the entryway to her private area bought Vasquez's attention back from the book she was reading. "Um, Captain… You got a minute?" The man at the door was one of her trusted lieutenants, a fellow fighter who had been at the arena for only about a month less than she had been.

"Sure Draco. What's on your mind?" she asked as she marked her page and set the book aside.

"Well," he said as he looked to make sure nobody else was nearby. "It's about Harris." The big man looked a bit sheepish as he tried to figure out what to say next. "Well, we're starting to get a little worried about him."

Michelle leaned forward, paying close attention. "What's going on?" She was always ready to listen to what her people had to say, especially when in pertained to the well being of another. It was one of the qualities that her fellow fighters respected her for. One of the reasons why she was their chosen leader.

"Since, well, for the last couple of weeks or so, he's just not the same. I mean, he was never one to really sit down and hang out, but since he… Well, since he found out about his friend, he just stares off into space, or sleeps. Or trains, like he's trying to escape, trying to get his mind somewhere else."

"You think he's losing it?"

"I don't know, Ma'am. But if he hasn't, he's on edge. I mean really on edge. He's a good guy, and none of us want to see anything happen to him."

The Queen looked across the main area, and saw Xander leaving the gym area and heading towards his room. He did indeed look like there was something gnawing at him, tearing him up on the inside. "I'll talk to him Draco. Thanks for bringing it to my attention."

The man thanked her and headed back to his duties. But even as he left, Michelle's mind was on the problem she had just been alerted to. It had been a couple of weeks since he had read that article, and in that time, Xander had only spoken with her for a couple of minutes. The few times she had tried to get him to open up, he'd acted like he was ok, and then come up with an excuse to go do something else. 

And she'd bought into it. She'd wanted to believe him that he was ok, when now that she'd been smacked in the face with it, she could see the truth.

Harris was far from ok, and he wasn't going to get back to ok without some help.

Taking a deep breath, she rose from her desk and headed across the communal area toward his private room. After standing there for a split second, she knocked on the frame.

There was no answer. In fact there was no noise at all from inside.

She knocked again, then spoke. "Xander, I know you're in there…" 

The door swung open, revealing Xander standing there, still in his sweat stained shirt. "Hey Michelle, sorry I was just doing some thinking… Gonna go hit the track, you want to…"

She cut him off by pushing him back into the room and swinging the door closed behind her. 

"Hey, kinda moving a little fast, aren't you?" he said humorously. 

"Trust me Harris, you ain't seen me make a fast move on a man." She looked at him, then looked around his room. "You know, I just realized, all the time you've had this place, I don't think anybody else has been in here…"

"The advantage of being your loyal knight," he said, trying to keep the humor in his voice. "I am sworn to none but my queen…"

"Uh huh… More like you want to have a place you can hide from everybody else, someplace that is yours and yours alone in this shit hole we call home."

Xander looked uncomfortable. "So, you want to go for that run?"

"Sit down Xand," she said. "Look, something's up. I know it, you know it, hell even Draco and the other fighters know it, and they're not exactly the sweet sensitive types."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" he asked.

"Not a chance in hell. It's the musketeer motto down here and you know it. We've got nobody but each other and we stand together…" She looked at him pleadingly. "Come on Partner. Talk to me…"

"Why is it that I get all this women in my life who try and make sure I have no spine left…" He looked up at the ceiling and muttered that he doesn't really want an answer to that… Sighing, he walked over to the desk and opened the bottom drawer. From its recesses, he pulled out a notepad and walked back to the bed. He sat down heavily, facing Michelle, who was sitting on the footlocker. 

His fingers brushed the cover of the notepad, feeling the imperfections in the stiff cardstock. "Look, I'm trusting you here…"

Michelle looked at the young man, the haggard warrior, before her. "You trust me every time we step in the ring Xander. Just like I trust you… I've told you about everything in my past…"

Xander held up his hand. "Just stop for a second." He looked down at the notebook in his hands, then at Michelle. "I'd like…." He paused, extremely unsure of himself. "Michelle," he said as he opened the notebook to a bookmark midway through it, holding it so she could see it. 

But even as she looked at it, at the picture which had been drawn in the blank pages, he knew that he had pulled this glimpse of his past out, for his own sake, not for her's. 

"I'd like to introduce you to my family…" His voice cracked, and she could see tears in his eyes. His finger traced along the picture, as he named off each person. His hero and her vampire. His best friend since childhood and her girlfriend. The man he wished had been his father and the woman said man had lost. His brother, he'd been forced to stake. His fiancé, who he'd watch die as they tried to save the word again. The mother he wished he'd had, struck down by something as pointless as an aneurysm. The Slayer he had failed and because of his failure, she had crossed into the darkness. 

The young woman who he'd tried to protect, who had died in that car wreck. "She was the last one left." He looked at Michelle, the tears flowing. "I protected her from vampires, demons and a fucking hell god. But I couldn't save her…" He looked down at the picture he had drawn, their images plucked from his minds eye and gathered into a group picture which he wished he had been able to assemble in real life. "I couldn't save any of them…"

  
** ** ** ** ** ** ** **  
Twenty One Months Later…

The fighters stood, arrayed behind Xander, anger seething amongst them like a rabid beast. All it would take, all he had to do, was say one word, and the fighters would swarm the guards, exacting their revenge. 

But the cost… Xander knew that if he spoke that word, made the attack gesture, then the fighters would obey. He knew they would charge and take their captors, their jailors apart like so many children's toys. But before they did, the Uzi's and magical implements the guard carried would take a hefty toll on the warriors.

The shot they heard, the single pop, hit them all like a sledgehammer in the stomach. Confusion was awash in the heartbeat that followed. It had been an accident, a stupid, pointless fluke, and they'd dragged her away and shot her… None of the fighters could believe it. Not over a sword breaking. Even if it did kill some VIP's abusive playboy kid, who cares? He wasn't worth any one of the fighters… 

PigBoy entered the room a moment later, dropping the iron circlet Vasquez had worn as a crown to the floor. "Dumb bitch died on her knees, where all humans belong!" He looked at the fighters, who were all seriously debating on whether or not to charge the ugly demon and smash that leering face into a bloody red pulp. "All you beasts get back to your bunks…" 

Not a single person made a move.

"You'll get back to your bunks, or I'll send the boys out and we'll bring a few dozen new kids in here and kill every one of them in front of you monkeys."

He felt like he'd been the one shot, not Michelle. Xander felt his knees starting to buckle and stepped back, reaching for one of the support column. "Tell them to do as he says, Draco."

The other fighter looked at Xander for a moment, then followed his orders. After a few minutes, he looked up. The area was cleared, except for PigBoy. 

"You should have heard her beg, pleading for her life. Then, pop! No more bitch."

Xander's eyes were completely cold as he met the demon's gaze. "Now, there's two assholes I'm going to be there to watch…." The utter inhumanity of the tone made PigBoy flinch back. "But you, I'm going to enjoy…."

The demon tried to come up with some witty response, some clever quip, but the gut wrenching nervousness he felt at that moment pretty much prevented anything resembling higher brain function. The almost glee in those words, and the promise… After a few seconds of unsteadiness, the demon cleared the room, leaving Xander alone once more.

He reached down and picked up the circlet from the floor. 

It would be a very long time before he let it go again.

  
** ** ** 

The tears had dried on his face as sleep finally claimed him. But dreams were no escape from the pain. All around him, Xander saw the friends he had lost over the years. Jesse, Ms. Calender, Kendra, Anya and now Michelle. All of them, blaming him for their pointless deaths. 

Then, in a heartbeat, all the pain, all the images, all those he had failed, were gone. Or, more accurately, he was gone. 

Instead of the bloody hallways, he found himself sitting by a campfire, beside what looked like a Mongol yurt. Across from him sat a man who looked like he should be in some body building competition. Or maybe in a maximum security prison. Or both.

"Remember your comrades. They are the ones who will greet you on the other side. But do not waste life letting their deaths hound you."

"Um… Ok… Why are you in my dreams… I'm not gay you know. Larry might be interested, but I can't really tell you how to get there from here."

"I care not for your man loving friend. His choice simply means more women for me, or it would if I were still able enjoy a drunken tavern, or a drunken brawl for that matter. But I'm dead, there are more women on this side than I can conquer in a thousand, thousand lifetimes."

"Ok, now we're getting somewhere, even if it the bizarro world. You're dead. I'm not, right?"

"Not physically, but your spirit, and body, have both come close many times. This helps with the connection which lets me speak with you. That and the blood we share."

"Great. So why are we in an episode of beastmaster?"

"This is where I fought in the pits, much like you do in your waking hours. I have fought past the Guardians to speak with you. You are a great warrior, or could be, the likes of which has not been in my line for thousands of years. But you fight, inside and out, when only one is needed. Focus yourself on what is good in life for where you are. To Crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and hear the lamentations of … Well, the last bit doesn't really apply. But the first part does. You can beat where you are, boy. And when you do, nothing can stand in your path and survive."

"And you, the wise dream guy, are suppose to tell me that you have seen that I can do all this."

"No, I know that I did it. I fought my way up through the pits, won my freedom and became a warriors whose name struck fear in the hearts of those I encountered."

Sarcasm dripped from Xander's voice as he asked if the guy had won the girl as well… 

It was apparently the wrong thing to say. Xander found himself in midair as the giant grabbed the front of his shirt and lifted him from the log. "She was stolen from me by a sorcerer, whose head I took in vengeance." He dropped Xander, who landed on his feet. "But she awaited me on this side, and even now, we fight together, even if I no longer have a kingdom to defend by her side." He paused before saying that those are other stories, not to be told tonight. "Remember this, young warrior. You are a mighty warrior. In time, your name may be spoken in the same way mine was for generations, long after my time had passed. But my time grows short as the dawn approaches. Dedicate yourself to your goal. Ignore all else. Crush your enemies and drive them before you."

As the surroundings began to fade, Xander asked what his name was…

"My name matters not. My deeds are gone. Not even the gods remember who we were, or why. All they remember is that we fought, that we fought well. Against any and all odds." As the warrior, who had defeated every enemy but the reaper, so long ago, began to fade away, he spoke once more, vanishing from sight before his words did. "Claim vengeance for the friends you have lost to the darkness. Fight the darkness like there is nothing else. After all, you can always take one with you."  
  
** ** ** **

"So," said the owner with pride in his voice. "I'd like to welcome Harris, or should I say the Knight, to the big leagues." 

'Three guards, all armed. Two with swords, the one in the back with a machine pistol.' He pulled up a mental note regarding the modernly armed guard was of a species not known for their quickness of thought. Or their breath. 

"We always knew you had greatness inside of you son." The Arena Master stood beside a cloth covered display of some sort. "And since you're our rising star, we want to make sure you have your own motif for your ascent."

As he reached out for the cloth, Xander felt things click into place. The guards were too close to be effective and they would block each other. The odds were a long shot, but they were good enough to risk.

And then all hell broke loose as he made his move.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

"Harris!" Shouted one of the other fighters from the lower levels. "Come on man! Open the doors! They find us in here after you butchering everybody, we're not even going to have a fighting chance!"

He looked at the man yelling to him, then the other fighters behind the door, then at the door itself. 

If nothing else, they would be able to inflict a little more damage against the darkness. And they'd keep the remaining guards busy while he finished arming himself and keeping a promise.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** 

The arena was empty of living creatures. Of the two beings that stood there, one was dead inside, the other about have it's existence punctuated by a nine millimeter period. 

"Look," babbled PigBoy as he was forced to kneel on the ground. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of the stuff I said."

The black gauntleted hands pulled the pistol from its holster, racking the slide, turning the machined steel from a paperweight into a precision instrument of death.

"I can help people, I'll become a priest, or a social worker or something." The demon tried to raise its hands, to plead for mercy, but the wire held them in place behind its back.

The sight picture was in place, only waiting for the pistol to finish rising, for the sights to merge with the target. The finger was gently squeezing the trigger, bringing the four pounds of pressure to bear even as the pistol slid into the proper position.

"I was lying. She's not…."

The sound of the chemical explosion was also anti-climatic. The subsonic round punched through the demon's skull like wet clay, spraying the sand of the pit with blue blood and pinkish brain matter. As the body fell to join the other dozen or so, the pistol was being slid home into the holster on the bearer's right thigh.

Without looking back, Xander Harris lifted the armored helmet and set it on his head. 

The Death Knight strode from the demolished arena where it had been born, heading for the truck and equipment it had prepared.

Under the armored visage, a death's head grin formed on the once jovial face. 

Let the Darkness cower in terror. Death was hunting them.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Xander looked at Faith, all trace of his emotional armor gone from his face. Lines of anguish, pain and torment lined his visage. "I'm sorry Faith. Somewhere along all this, I lost who I was, the guy that you knew. I'm not him anymore. Sometimes, in very rare moments, I can remember a hint of it. A ghost of happiness and peace but then everything else rises up and sucks even those happy memories away again. The Xander Harris you knew in SunnyDale was a victim to the darkness, just like so many others. I… I'm sorry."

Tears rolled down Faith's cheeks as she wept tears for her friend that he could no longer cry for himself. "You're still Xander. The man who saved my life, who saved the lives of countless innocent people. I don't care what you've gone through, or what you've done. You're still that guy from SunnyDale, still the man who risked his life to save people who laughed at him and ignored him. You just need some help to find yourself again, Xan." 

A heartbeat of hesitation, as if part of him wanted so badly to believe what she had said. To believe that he was still himself, that the Knight of Death had not completely overpowered Xander Harris. But there had been so much pain, so many times he had been kicked while he was down, even as he had tried to help others… Hope was something that he had lost so long ago. Even now, as a once fallen friend had shown him the way back to the light, he had trouble contemplating being able to succeed in clawing his way back to the man he had been so long ago. 

For the first time since he had become the Knight, Xander felt tears welling up in his eyes. He looked at Faith. "I'm sorry Faith. But I can't. There's been too much. Too many years of the pain, of the loss. Too many friends being killed, watching them die and being helpless. It's done and gone. There's no way to bring it back. The man you knew, that tried to save you, that was worthy of the help you're trying to offer… He's not me. He's locked himself away, in a quiet place, where the darkness can't get in and hurt him any more. The darkness hid the door and the lock years ago, it's done and gone. Locked away, never to be released again. I don't know that I could handle dealing with all of this, and there's no way I can open that door anyway, even if I wanted to." 

From the side of the door, a voice spoke. Within the words, there was pain, empathy, love and happiness. It was a voice that Xander Harris knew, that the Death Knight had never heard, and that both of them thought was gone from their world forever. 

"Not even if you have a Key?"

End Chapter Ten


End file.
